Dickensian Streets
by Corralero
Summary: An unexpected lockdown forces Quatre and Duo deep into L2 to avoid detainment. Time is scarce as Quatre is abruptly exposed to the vicious world of underground crime, gangs and Duo's past.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Wing or any recognisable characters, nor am I making any profit on this.

**Warnings**: For future chapters - violence, swearing and poverty. Anything which is particuarly bad will have a warning on it.

**A/N: **Hey! First chapter of my latest story which I've actually typed/written enough of! The chapter is short, a bitter of a teaser if you will. But hope you enjoy it!

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter One**

When Quatre had been little, his most cherished times had been with one of his many sisters, Nina. At night, when bedtime and sleep were imminent, she would curl up next to him and read out loud into the soft warm sanctuary of his nursery. She had the most beautiful voice, be it in singing or speech. His father always called her his Lark, delighting in the fullness of melody, depth and expression. And she loved to read. She loved to study. She had gone to Earth, to England to study English at Oxford University. And Quatre had missed her terribly. When she had come home for Christmas she brought back a new book for them to read. _Oliver Twist_ by Charles Dickens. The novel had enthralled them for hours, sending Quatre into fits of giggles over his sister's impressions of Faggin and the evil Sykes. He had not seen the adult light of understanding in her eyes as she painted him a magical caricature world of words. It had become tradition. Every time she returned it was with a new Dickens book tucked away in her luggage. _Great Expectations, A Christmas Carol, Hard Times, Nicholas Nickleby, A Tale of Two Cities_ and on and on and on until his head was filled with the twisting cobbled streets of London as he ran around his home to avoid the likes of Sykes and rescue Estella from their troubles until night fell and his sister would scoop him up and bear him off to bed, reading to him once more. When Quatre was little…

* * *

Martin grunted in cynical amusement as he idly watched a cargo ship docking on to the bay. There was nothing special about the ship. Normal, regulation size, dull blue-grey colour still tinted slightly with the ice caused from the decent from space into the L2 port. What did vaguely irritate him was the ease in which the ship docked. A process that had taken him, much to the jeering of the rest of his crew, near on thirty minutes. Wasn't his fault the bloody ship handled like a cow's arse. The clunking sounds informed him the cargo ship next to his had completed the docking process. Bored, he swept his gaze around the relatively new port. It wasn't like L2 to spend the money on doing something decently, and they hadn't failed to live up to the steersman's low expectation. The place was a mess. He'd never seen a port quite so badly organised before. It had taken them half the day to find the fuel dumps, the waste of time leaving him feeling not a little irritated. They were all a bit jumpy. Some of the ship's content wasn't quite legit. Which annoyed him. He didn't like being caught up in tha kind of business, but the captain, sneaky bastard that he was, hadn't exactly given them much choice. What was done was done, he surmised, and it would probably work out for the best, but he still didn't like dithering about on L2 of all places when they were safer in transit. His attention was drawn back to the latest arrival to the port as the ship's pilots emerged onto the decks. He snorted in increased irritation. Pete's sake, pilots got younger and younger today. His eyes narrowed as the two men, boys, stretched, evidently taking in their surroundings. They were glancing around, in increasing confusion. Ha! That bloody fuel dump fooled everyone. Feeling slightly mollified that the young pilots' predicament, he left off his observations to get down to some work. 

Twenty minutes later, he was disturbed by a knock on the door. Looking up from his current state of adjustments to the helm, he was surprised to see the two young pilots he had observed earlier peering in. Wiping his hands on a rag, he stood.

"Hey, man. Sorry ta bother ya an' all, but can ya point us in th' direction of th' nearest fuel dump?" The speaker was obviously native L2, his harsh accent determining lower class origins. Closer up the two of them were even younger than he had thought, both of slender build and petite height. He had at least six inches on them. The thought pleased him and he suddenly felt generous towards his visitors.

"Sure thing. The name's Martin. Steersman to this hunk of junk," he stuck out a clean-ish hand, which was taken in succession by two firm grips along with two names, Max and Will.

The blond fellow, Will, looked around. "She's not that bad," he commented appreciatively and he glowed with typical crewman pride.

"Yeah. Anyway, this ports a blooming mess," he led them over to the vantage point. "What you need to do is head in this direction and…"

He tailed off as wailing sirens and blue lights flooded the loading area.

"Oh shit."

The exclamation came from three mouths in one go and Martin made an anxious dash up onto the deck to see what was going on, only to find the ship well surrounded with crackling calls for the crew members to come into the open with their hands in the air. When he next thought to look around for his two companions they were gone.

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey, big thank you to those of you who reviewed - It's lovely to know that people found it intriguing! Anyway, next installment. Enjoy yourselves and let me know what you think!

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Two**

They were standing deep in the shadows of a fire escape, the black ladders jangling down the mismatched brick wall to end a foot or two above the rubbish-strewn ground. His back was pressed up against the wall and he could feel the prick and scrape of the rough surface through his fine cotton shirt as he listened to the wild thumping of his heart slow back down into control, staring blindly into the dark as his breath steadied.

"Shit," muttered the figure crouched in front of him, and he pressed himself further back into the shadows as erratic blue light flittered around him, creating black prison bars through the rungs of the ladder. He watched as blue strips of Duo Maxwell's face appeared and disappeared. The snub nose, the long strands of chestnut hair, the half obscured violet eyes that keenly searched the simulated night. The blue lights passed on.

Then Duo was up and moving, grasping Quatre by the arm, moving silent and fast down and around alleyways, through a twisting, deserted secret path which they had been following for hours until he was pulled to a half-derelict building with no roof. They squatted on the dusty floor amongst rotting wood and mortar, staring at one another through the gloom. Quatre's hand absently rubbed at his chest, uncertain whether the gut-wrenching anxiety he felt was Duo's or his own. Duo's lips were moving. He was speaking, Quatre realised dimly and with an effort he drew himself out of his daze.

"Quat? How many rounds ya got?"

He hastily checked.

"About half," he replied, forcibly shaking off his tired bewilderment. Events had suddenly leapt forward, taking the two of them by surprise. They were meant to be in transition at the moment, heading towards the Stigittar base for a finely timed offensive with the other three pilots. An increase in OZ action had caused the five Gundam pilots to disperse widely over the last few months in a series of non-stop missions. Duo and Quatre had happened to be on Earth when receiving the details on their latest mission and had travelled together. The stop on L2 was meant to be for refuelling only, with Sandrock and Deathscythe safely concealed as cargo, yet they had found themselves unexpectedly in the middle of a military and fuel lockdown. To make matters worse, the cargo hauler docked next to theirs had been targeted by the police and military for investigation. Quatre and Duo had unfortunately been on board the ship in question, inquiring over the fuel dump, and had been forced to make a rapid escape to avoid entanglement. Duo had proved to be remarkably swift, ducking and diving through the crowds, twisting like an eel and leading Quatre deeper and deeper into what had to be the most disreputable neighbourhood in space. It was too much to hope that the steersman would fail to mention their presence and subsequent vanishing act to his questioners, so they had kept moving, and their fears proved to be true as their movements were increasingly hampered by patrols and searches.

A sudden crackle of radio static made both boys freeze in alarm. A voice spoke clearly through the dark.

"Investigating."

A white beam of light stabbed the darkness and travelled slowly around the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre saw Duo lay flat, pressing his slender body into the earth, and he followed suit, never knowing the beam brushed the very tips of his hair.

Another burst of static.

"Negative."

Heavy boots tramped away and Quatre was up, peering cautiously out the window. He dropped back down to where Duo crouched.

"The place is flooded with military and police. We need to go to ground. Are there no quieter areas?"

Duo's brow was furrowed with thought.

"Wha', ya mean rough it on th' streets?"

Quatre nodded. They had done the same several times when the world cities had gone into lockdown. Duo tilted his head to one side, hand resting on his gun, cocked towards the door.

"Na, that ain't gonna work. Not in L2. Th' streets' gonna be where they're lookin'. Like ya said, it's crawlin' tonight. 'Sides, we're gonna need ta be in th' grapeline."

Quatre frowned in confusion. "But surely we can just ask…" he stopped short in his protests, flushing slightly a he realised his foolishness. This was Duo's arena. Quatre was as lost here as Duo would be in a corporate office. He heard his friend chuckle softly.

"Q-man, there's th' streets an' then there's th' streets." Quatre knew his face was unhelpfully blank. Duo sighed.

"Y'know, like th' underground?" he elaborated. Quatre's eyes widened despite himself.

"As in crime rings?" Duo nodded. "But that's illegal!" he blurted out.

Thankfully, Duo took his rude innocence with typical good-natured cynicism.

"Yeah an' wha' we do ain't?"

"It's different," Quatre replied stubbornly. He received a wide grin.

"Maybe. But either way, if we wanna blow this joint in time for th' mission, then illegal's wha' we gonna have ta do. Can't fly 'Scythe wit no fuel." He stood cautiously, checking the way was clear, then stretched luxuriously. Quatre remained seated, chewing it over. "Worst timin' possible, ain't it?"

"Duo, we've got a sizable window of time. Can we not just lie low until the blockages are lifted?"

He took Duo's proffered hand and levered himself upright, dusting his trousers off. Duo shook his head with a snort.

"This ain't just any lockdown, man, this is an L2 lockdown. Trust me, we've got no chance. C'mon, I think I know where we're gonna go."

They set off once more, Duo in the lead, moving confidently through what seemed to Quatre to be the very bowels of L2. It was ugly to say the least. A nightmare-ish jungle of steel, concrete and iron, derelict and rusty, refuse and steam lingering on the dark, narrow alleyways, sometimes lit by awkward, self-conscious streetlights who seemed uneasily aware of their incongruous nature. It might have been nicer in the daytime, but Quatre couldn't quite convince himself of the possibility. As he moved deeper into that jungle, he slowly became aware of its inhabitants. Muffled rustling, dark shadowy shapes on street corners, a hand, a shoulder, briefly lit in the lights to vanish again. Sometimes they passed by an open door, where stale yellow light and smoke drifted out together, and eyes followed them, unseen from all around. Quatre could feel the weight of them on his shoulders and saw Duo softly draw his knife to cradle in the palm of his hand. The itch between his shoulder blades grew and he slowly reached for his gun, as his instincts began to scream at him to act or run. Duo's breathy whisper reached his ears.

"Don' turn around. Wha' ever ya do. Don' turn around."

He gritted his teeth and kept walking. The silence was ominous, a brewing storm of tension; Even the searching authorities seldom ventured down here. The two pilots were able to move relatively swiftly with few delays.

Suddenly Duo was gone. Hesitantly Quatre took another step, looking around for his friend, and felt himself being seized and dragged behind a dumpster. He glared at Duo, who simply smiled mischievously.

"Still fancy roughin' it on th' streets?"

Something was changing about the 02 pilot. A recklessness, a wildness, had entered his eyes. Quatre studied his friend, feeling the driven purpose and focus twining with pure and fierce adrenaline. Looking around, he wrinkled his nose. The dumpster was overloaded, flowing over with rotting garbage which was heaped by his feet. The smell was malodorous, but Duo didn't seem to notice. He spoke low into Quatre's ear.

"Ok, we're nearly there. See that buildin' on th' right?" Quatre looked over his shoulder to a small, grotty flat lit unenthusiastically by a nearby blinking streetlight. He nodded in dismay as his mind flew, unbidden, back to the house of his family he had left mere hours ago. "Cool. That's it. Right, Quat…" Duo hesitated for a moment, "There's gonna be a few things that no matter wha', don' get mentioned. Period. Don' let on 'bout the whole Gundam shebang, never tell anyone ya got money an' don' ever let 'em know ya a R-W, alright?"

He had been nodding happily at the first but the others…

"What?"

Duo looked him square in the face. "I'm serious. Don' let 'em know ya a Winner or ya connection ta th' company. I would say pretend not ta be rich but…" he chuckled. "Just say ya family does alright. But for hell's sake, don' let on 'bout money."

"But money can be useful, Duo," Quatre argued back, "We can bribe…"

Duo's face was strangely unreadable. "Don' know how it works up top, but down in th' underground things don' get sorted that easily. 'Sides, people get greedy, don' they? Always wan' more than they can get. We really don' wan' a hostage situation on our hands right now." Quatre bit his lip. With that Duo left the shelter of the dumpster, skirting around a puddle caused by a broken pipe, Quatre reluctantly at his side.

He didn't do the expected in heading for the main entrance or sidedoor, but then nothing in this place seemed to follow Quatre's expectations. Instead, Duo padded softly around the back to where the fire escape dangled above their heads. The two boy's petite status was a challenge swiftly overcome as Duo boosted Quatre up, who reached back down to aid his ascent. Cautiously, they began to move upwards then froze as blue light crept around the corner.

"Shit! Go!"

Side by side, the two pilots sprang silently up the steps to halt, panting with exertion and adrenalin, outside a rusty, flaking fire door, a brown sheet of paper semi-obscuring the dingy light. Duo rapped on the door with a soft urgency, calling in a low voice, "Sid, Sid," while Quatre carefully stood back from the edge of the platform as several Leos halted beneath them in formation. Their searchlights slide around to kiss the bottom of their flat. He glanced nervously at Duo as a soft shuffling emitted from behind the door. Duo snarled softly.

"C'mon, ya fat git. Open th' door or I'll pick it."

The lights reached the first floor, picking out the broken windowpanes.

The door jerked open on the security chain to reveal a watery blue eye.

"Bloody Maxwell."

The eye received a good-natured grin.

"How ya know it was me?"

"Coz no one else would be stupid enough to say that," was the grunted reply. Duo glance uneasily over his shoulder as blue light slid higher and higher.

"Yeah, well, ya gonna let us in or wha'? It's getting' pretty hot out here."

Quatre listened in relief to the grunt and the rattle of the security chain, then Duo and he were inside while the man called Sid was busy locking the door firmly behind them once more as the searchlights hit its flaking surface, painting it a cold, empty blue.

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Sorry this took a little while longer to put up. Real life and all that jazz. Hope you're all well! Enjoy the new chapter - let me know what you think of Sid!!

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Three**

"Duo Maxwell. Thought you were dead."

'Sid' was standing foursquare in Duo's path, looking accusingly at the teenager's all-too-living face. While not exactly fat, Sid had a maggot's softness about him, combined with an unhealthy pale pallor, a testament to a filthy lifetime of living in space. His lank greying hair straggled across his scalp to twist dejectedly around his shoulders. Duo, however, seemed unaffected by the man's unsavoury appearance, grasping his hand in a firm shake and grinning cheerfully.

"Dead? Hell no, 'm Duo Maxwell, man!"

Sid grunted.

"Thought it was too good to be true."

Duo stuck a fist to his chest, shooting a sorrowful look. "Ya cuttin' me deep, Sid, cuttin' me deep. So, how's th' dice bin fallin'?"

Sid finally seemed to decide it was time to move out of the hallway. They followed his shuffling progress as he grumbled over his shoulder.

"Same shit as always. Bloody lockdown's gonna screw some over something big time. An' you ain't helping nothing by bringing the blues right to my fucking front door."

Duo rolled his eyes at Quatre as they entered a sparse living area. Together they glanced around, swiftly taking in the security and exits.

"Aww, relax will ya. They never saw me comin'," Duo moved curiously into the kitchen area, reaching for the fridge. "Ya moan like a woman, man. Wha' ya got ta drink?"

Moving with unbecoming haste, the man slapped a podgy protective fist on the fridge's handle, glaring at the braided boy.

"Not so fast, maggot. I'm wanting some info first. Can't just waltz in here like it's a fucking hotel," Sid spoke to Duo's back as the boy moved away to look into the rest of the kitchen.

"Yeah, so wha' ya wanna know?"

"Where the fuck have you been? What the fuck you doing back? And who the fuck is this standing in my apartment?"

Duo paused in his restless investigation of the kitchen, his eyes meeting Quatre's guilty expression for the briefest of seconds. Then he waved a dismissive hand, leaning back against the grimy surface.

"Fair dos. That, my man," he gestured towards Quatre, "is Bryon. Fully legit, good guy. Get ta know him yaself, ya lazy bastard. He's gotta mouth, ain't he?" Sid shot Quatre a suspicious look as he waved weakly. Somehow shaking hands on introduction didn't seem to be the done thing here. "As for me," Duo paused, meeting the man's eyes with a wicked smile. "Blew th' joint, didn't I? Got right outta this shit-hole."

Sid snorted, finally relenting and opening the fridge door. He tossed a beer apiece to the two boys. Quatre fingered the cold glass uncomfortable. They were underage. He never drank but under the circumstances perhaps it was best just to fit in. Unscrewing the lid, he took a tentative sip and gagged slightly at the fizzing watery liquid. Flushing, he glanced around. Duo, as he might have guessed, had not qualms. He had wandered over to the rickety table and plonked himself down. Knocking the cap off on the edge of the table, he raised the bottle in mock-toast and took a healthy swig.

"Mind my fucking table," Sid cursed, "You jammy bugger. Stole away, did you?"

Duo lifted his chin proudly, "Yup, easy as hell. Got straight through their security system." He took a reflective swig. "Got caught after a couple of days though," he mused. Sid's puffy eyes widened. The man was completely engrossed.

"Jeeze, lucky they didn't jettison you."

Duo scowled. "Luck got fuck all ta do wit' it. They just got th' sweet Maxwell tongue. S'all ya need."

"Talked them to death, did you? Mouthy little sod," was the jeering reply. Duo grinned good-naturedly at the insults, tilting the chair back onto two legs. Quatre winced. Had they been alone or back with the others, he would have scolded the American to sit properly. He was sure Duo would one day go head over braid backwards.

"Hell yeah. They dropped me off at th' nearest port. L4. Made of gold compared ta this rustin' hole."

"Then what?"

"Same old, same old. Slip of this an' a lift of tha'." Duo's eyebrow quirked with irony as Sid gawuffed at the coded meaning Quatre had missed. He slapped the boy on the back, causing him to choke on the latest swig of beer.

"I'm tellin' you now, Maxwell. You're as black as sin. Born as crooked as the day you'll die."

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Duo glared, complaining "Hey, s'not all tha' bad. Played it straight as well. Workin' wit' th' sweepers at th' moment. Honest livin' an' all tha'. But straight or crooked, I'm tellin' ya, it all pays off better than this shithole of a colony."

Looking vaguely affronted at the insult to his home colony, Sid muttered, "If you doin' so well then why the hell are you sneaking downtown in the middle of a lockdown? Thought you'd pay your old pal a visit?" He peered into Duo's eyes knowingly and suddenly Quatre realised that this man was rather more astute than he appeared. Duo grinned.

"Why else but th' fuckers in blue an' their ozzie pals?"

Suddenly the chair was on all four legs again. Quatre blinked at the abrupt change within his friend, even as he sighed quietly in relief to see the chair on an even keel.

"I'm cashin' in th' favours," Duo announced evenly. Sid chewed on a hangnail, listening carefully. "We've gotta get off L2 in th' next two days." Sid raised an enquiring eyebrow and Duo swore in mild exasperation. "Shit, man, don' be thick. Why'd'ya think I've gotta get off? Th' blue boys and ozzie's love ta get hold of me, wouldn' they? An' even I can' dodge 'em forever – ya seen th' scale of this lockdown? 'sides, got some cargo ta shift an' fast. It really ain't gonna be pretty if we're late."

Sid nodded slowly, still chewing away, while Quatre sat in quiet admiration of the other boy's speaking skill. Duo said he never lied, and Quatre trusted him implicitly, but he had never seen someone manipulate the truth and people's understanding of it quite so well before. His musings were cut short as Sid began to speak.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to shift your damned ass asap then, don't it?" He looked hard at Duo. "You got any idea how much you're asking here? You prepared to do what it takes?" He grunted at the dark look the other shot him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're Maxwell's Demon, ain't you. 'Course you know." Lumbering to his feet, he looked down at them. "Looks like you're kipping here tonight then. C'mon, I've got a spare bed or two."

Quatre followed the man to the opposite end of the room with dubious curiosity. A ragged brown striped curtain hung across a doorframe dressed in peeling cream paint. Sid pulled the fabric back to reveal what was once not much more than a cupboard.

"Oh…lovely," Quatre stammered. He was too busy staring in ill concealed dismay at the thin mattress lying on the floor, complete with a heap of moth-eaten, flea-ridden ratty pile of blankets on top, to see the narrow assessing look Sid shot him. Sid let out a humorous chuckle.

"Maxwell's still got that thrice-damned tongue of his. He never did explain how someone like you fell in with the likes of him."

Quatre looked around guiltily. "It just…it just happened," he said weakly. The man nodded knowingly.

"Well, get yourself out pronto, kid. Don't want to be the next victim of the Maxwell's demon, now do we," he leered. Quatre frowned at him, and his face sobered. "I mean it, boy. Maxwell's luck is his and his alone."

Sucking in breath, Quatre struggled for an answer but Sid had lost interest and was yelling at Duo to take his feet off the table. Swallowing his confusion and dismay, Quatre bent down to gingerly finger the blankets. A low whistle broke his thoughts. Duo stood in the doorway, taking in their accommodation.

"Not half bad," he commented with a chuckle. At Quatre's incredulous look, he shrugged. "Compared to normal L2 standards, that is. Shudda seen this dump last time I was here."

Pulling himself together, the blonde helped Duo in spreading the blankets then blinked as the lights abruptly went out.

"Beddy byes," Duo whispered with a stifled giggle. They clambered in, settling back to back for warmth. Lying still and silent for a moment, Quatre listened to the noises of the L2 night. Suddenly, Duo twisted around to squeeze his shoulder.

"Ya did good, Q."

The Winner heir gave a small smile.

"Duo, I didn't do anything."

He could hear the grin in the other's voice.

"'sxactly. Could 'ave bin loads worse. Ya did good. Thanks, man."

"Night, Duo."

"Night, Bryon."

He heard Duo's giggle at his involuntary groan. As they settled down once more, a sleepy disgruntled whisper crossed between them.

"Worst name ever."

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: **Crude language and swearing - Sid and Duo, y'know?

**A/N: **Next chapter! Again sorry its been awhile - uni is way too much fun when you don't have to do anything! At the risk of sounding a little like a beggar, it would be lovely to hear more of what my readers think of this chapter - even if it's just one word! As any writer will tell you feedback is so usefull! That said - massive thank you to those who did review - stars!! Anyway enjoy...

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Four **

"…motherfucking damn luck!"

Quatre woke the next morning, stiff and tired, listening to a filthy blue torrent of cursing flowing from Duo's mouth. Flushing as the language, he rubbed his eyes and considered blocking his ears as well. It had been a while since Duo had let rip like this. The L2 boy had made a concerted effort not to swear, particularly around Quatre and Wufei, knowing it made the two pilots uncomfortable. But here he appeared to be doing the complete opposite. Sighing, he rolled out of bed, stretching as he stood and scratching absently at a fleabite on his left shoulder. Pushing back the curtains, he found Duo leaning across the table, hands flat on the surface, glaring across at Sid, whose hands were raised defensively, the slightest tint of fear in his eyes. Quatre wasn't surprise. The self-proclaimed God of Death did not look impressed.

"Shit, Duo! You know how things switch around here. It's been nearly four years. I can't help who's top dog."

Duo snorted, shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But, crap, man, Khan'd rather feed me to the Ozzies himself!"

Quatre coughed lightly, causing Duo to look up and wave him in impatiently. He looked back towards Sid. "Well, it ain't like we've got much choice."

"Damn straight," the man replied. "Right, I'm off. You're making me a hell of a lot of work today, Maxwell."

"It was one hell of a favour, Sid," Duo shot at Sid's departing figure, receiving a grunt, the slam of a door and a sudden silence.

Duo sighed, a great exhaling gust of air, and flopped back into a more familiar figure.

"So what happens now?" Quatre wondered out loud.

"Now we wait," Duo replied, eyes fixed moodily on the table. Drawing up a rickety chair, Quatre poked his friend gently in the arm.

"Care to do some street translating for me?" he inquired. It got him a laugh. Duo raked his hand through his hair, finally meeting Quatre's eyes with a rueful smile.

"Heh, sorry, Quat. I'm cashin' in a few favours Sid owes me ta get us offa L2 soon as. Sid looks like a down an' out greaseball but trust me th' man's got his finger on th' pulse of th' streets better than no-one else." Quatre nodded his understanding as Duo frowned, speaking absently, "See, if we're gonna get off this hunk of metal in time then we gotta get ta th' top. Gotta get ta whoever's rulin' th' roost." He leant forward, staring as Quatre, worry in his eyes. "_If _we get there. Damn, Quat, ya got any idea how much control those crimelords' got? Police an' governments eatin' outta their hands an' OZ can't do a damn thing."

Quatre chewed it over, trying to understand. "So, the closer we get to them the safer we are?" he hazarded.

"Hell no," Duo laughed bitterly. "Good ol' Sid was updatin' me wit' th' latest news on who's who. An' the bloody Maxwell luck strikes again. Khan an' his wolves are th' flavour of th' day." Duo's sneer didn't quite cover his concern.

"I take it this is bad news?"

"'bout as bad as Miss Pretty Pink Princess poppin' her clogs. I really ain't Khan's favourite person."

"He holds a grudge?"

Duo cast him a sideways look. "Yeah, ya could say tha'. Don' fret, Q. Sid'll get us in – th' man's a miracle worker. An' then it'll just take a liddle longer an' be a liddle rougher, but it ain't like we've got a choice."

A small silence fell as Quatre turned the information over his head. He glanced up to find the braided boy observing him with a wry grin.

"What?" he asked defensively. Duo shook his head.

"Go on, Quat. Wha' ya wanna know?"

Inwardly chuckling at his friend's knowledge of him, he began cautiously. "I'm not sure I quite understand. Sid said you left here nearly four years ago, which would make you around twelve or thirteen. How could someone of that age make enemies with a crime lord?"

Duo's look turned dark. "Quatre, no offence, buddy, but this is th' streets we're talkin' about, an' L2 ones at tha'. I stole a Leo from an OZ munitions base when I was nine an' ended up in prison th' same year. Ya grow up damn fast in this neighbourhood, or ya die tryin'. Makin' enemies wit' a gang leader? Believe me, nuthin' unusual goin' on there."

Quatre felt a rising wave of sympathy and horror for his friend, glancing down to hide his emotions, knowing Duo would not appreciate the display. Duo sighed.

"Look, sorry ya have ta see all this. I know it ain't wha' ya used ta. 'Fraid ya'll just have ta lump it fer now."

Realising Duo had misread his actions, Quatre raised his head quickly, speaking with surprising vehemence. "I'm not sorry."

Duo merely chuckled darkly.

"I'm speaking truly, Duo. Yes, the circumstances are unfortunate. But if you can experience my background, then why shouldn't I experience yours. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

He could see from Duo's eyes he was not fully convinced, but he let the matter drop. There would be time aplenty to convince him later.

For his part, Duo smiled, touched by his friend's loyalty and innocent. _Quatre had no idea. _

"Yeah, thanks man."

Quatre's stomach had apparently decided that, seeing as breakfast hadn't appeared, it was getting on for lunchtime and announced the fact by growling rather loudly. Duo cast it a sympathetic look as its owner pulled an embarrassed face. Duo's stomach rumbled back.

"Where is Sid? Takin' his time."

Keys jangled at the door and the pilots cast one another wary looks as they rose silently from the table. Quatre reached for his gun, body and mind tense as the sudden reminded that they were on the run once more. They both relaxed as Sid came in, carrying various bags and looking for all the world like a male version of the bird lady.

"S'all good," he replied to Duo's expectant look. "Lights going out early tonight seeing as there's a curfew on. I'll be taking you over in a few hours. Said he'll be happy to see you."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Duo muttered.

"Got ya this," Sid plonked an ancient laptop down. Quatre peered at the label. Del: model 7766. He didn't even know they still existed. "Dunno if it still works but…"

"Awesome!" Duo scooped it up from under Quatre's nose, beaming like a kid on Christmas Day, and was busy setting it up on the kitchen surface. The Arabian eyed the other bags hopefully, causing Sid to snort at his hopeful expression.

"Yeah, figured you'd be hungry," he grunted, sitting down next to the other and gruffly shoving a packet of fish and chips his way. "Go on, get that down you."

Quatre smiled gratefully, murmuring his thanks, touched and surprised at the man's thoughtfulness and generosity. He wondered briefly what Sid would have been like, had he been born else where, in a different time and place.

While Duo worked on the laptop, eating as he went, Quatre and Sid got acquainted. The initial hostility and mistrust the man had shown swiftly evaporated and soon he was regaling with expansive storied of the L2 streets and underworld, filled with characters so colourful Quatre was sure they had walked straight from Dickens. He laughed.

"So what about Duo?"

"What 'bout him?" the man drawled back.

"Where does he fit into all this?" He knew he probably shouldn't but he couldn't resist. Duo was such a mystery at times. Sid's guwauff sounded once more.

"Curious liddle thing, ain't you?" Sid leaned back, scratching his sagging stomach reflectively. "Duo Maxwell. Who the fuck knows? I'm telling you, that boy isn't from the streets, he is the streets." He looked over towards Duo, a strange mixture of pride, admiration and derision on his face. Duo, sensing their gazes, glanced up. Sid's eyes narrowed in assessing.

"Your buddy's a bit of a mystery, aren't ya, Maxwell?" he called out. Duo straightened up to lean backwards against the counter, arms folded, a sarcastic smile playing on his face. Something told Quatre he had heard all this before.

"I mean," Sid went on thoughtfully, "who are the hell are you, Maxwell?" Then more belligerently, "What the fuck are you?"

Duo simply shrugged and waved a cheery hand.

"Who th' hell cares?" he replied.

"You see?" Sid turned back to Quatre, "You see? Same every time. He don't have a fucking clue. Most of the trash around here's got some idea of how they ended up there. Y'know, parents and shit. But not Maxwell. Ain't got a clue. Always been on the streets, haven't ya?" he shot at the listening pilot.

"Guess so," came the casual reply.

"A dumpster screwin' with a whore and look what got spat out," Quatre winced at the lewd description. "Born from the streets an' raised by them too, c'ept for that stint in the church. Everyone 'round here knew him, but he never really did run with no gang. Risky but he's harder than nails, that one. Don' let that clown act and pretty face fool you. I've seen some of the shit he's done. As sneaky as the devil and twice as deadly – you don't mess with Maxwell's demon."

"Aww, shit, man. Ya ruining my act," Duo whacked Sid playfully on the shoulder. "Bryon's gonna be too scared ta sleep wit' th' streetrat bogeyman if ya keep that up." He leant across to ruffle Quatre's hair, who ducked away, laughing. Sid scowled, upset at the interruption to his story making.

"C'mon, wanna show ya somethin'." Duo hauled Quatre to his feet, dragging him over to the laptop. "Since Sid don' know shit 'bout decent technology, we ain't got no communication unless ya can pick it up." Quatre leant down and stared at the screen, wincing at the information Duo had drawn up. Beside him, Duo nodded. "Yeah, it ain't gonna happen is it? Even if ya can get through all th' blocks OZ set up with the lock-down an' all, with this relic they'd catch ya before ya even started. But I did get inta the surveillance systems," Duo spoke rapidly, his voice low, evidently aware of Sid's presence. However after swearing at Duo's insults, their host lost interest, lumbering off to another room as his phone rang. Quatre sighed.

"So, we are on our own for this one?"

Duo nodded, looking grim. "But here's the good news." He pulled up a window linking into to several security cameras surveying the port they had hastily evacuated. Quatre stared at the grainy black and white screens and felt relief flowing through him.

"They haven't found them."

The Gundams still lay inconspicuously by, covered in tarpaulin and surrounded by storage boxes, on the deck of their transport ship. He looked closer.

"There's a lot of guards around the ship next to ours. That could be an issue."

Duo shrugged. "Jump that hedge when we get ta it. Though if ya wanna put your amazin' strategy brain to it now, then go ahead. We won' have much ta do for awhile anyway."

Quatre smiled, pleased to finally have something to do, as he leant over the computer, flicking from camera to camera to scope out the docking area more accurately and began to asses the possibilities.

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning**: Violence, language, mentions of drugs and prostitution – entering gangland now, guys! 

**A/N: **Ok, moving house and having no internet with the waterpipe bursting everywhere is not fun. Hence the reason there has been no update for mucho long time. So I've given you quite a long chapter to make up for it! ;-) Big big thank you to my reviewers – Julie, you really made me laugh! You read the accents out loud!! How did they sound?? Glad everyone is liking Sid – I'm becoming surprisingly fond of him myself! Beware, you finally meet the mysterious Khan (who ironically has the same name as my evil landlord!).

Oh and bit of a dilemma, parts of the next few chapters are going to be written from Duo's point of view (they have to be as Quatre isn't there!). Now I can either leave them out and put them in another story or put them in – would it be cheeky to ask for a bit of advice? Oh and even if you don't have an opinion on that particular issue, leave me a review! Love you know what you think of this chapter!

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Five**

The afternoon had dragged and dragged. Quatre planed potential infiltration methods, and then planned them again. He'd then worked out the exact distances to be travelled and calculated the estimated time of travel, levels of visibility and potential chill factor. Had anyone told him, prior to this, that he would be quite so bored on the notorious L2 and in Duo's company, he would have politely smiled and sent them on their way. He'd also played solitaire. Lots.

Of course, it wasn't exactly Duo's fault that he was so bored. The 02 pilot was rather restive himself, having spent the last few hours checking through his weaponry and sharpening his knives to hair-splitting sharpness. The rasp of steel on steel still rang out rhythmically. Quatre had run over the state of his own weapons more discreetly, not wanting to arouse the suspicion of Sid, who was unintentionally the cause of their near-desperate state of boredom. Under more normal circumstances, the two most sociable of the Gundam pilots could have easily chatted the hours away, yet with Sid hanging around, the extent of their conversation was limited. The man had been wandering around the apartment, chatting on his phone and occasionally engaging his two young guests in conversation. But Quatre hadn't been ignorant to the rising sense of nerves emitting from his host. In fact, the whole atmosphere of the dingy flat had become increasingly oppressive as the night drew in, clouds of tension gathering as if before a storm as conversation became muted and Sid's nervous glances towards the window became more and more frequent. Not that Quatre blamed him. His own head turned in that direction with increasing regularity, watching the simulated sky turn from blue to pink to red to purple to velvet. Duo on the other hand remained focused on his knives.

"Fifteen minute warning."

Aquamarine met violet. Fifteen minutes was the standard call. Fifteen minutes for final checks, final evaluations, final prayers. Fifteen minutes to don the armour and lock away all your humanity as well as you could. Quatre nodded imperceptibly and received shinnigami's smile. Duo's battle armour was already on. He had been putting it on with each stoke of the knife.

The minutes ticked past. Then, just as Sid entered the room once more, Duo let his combat knife fly to bury itself in the doorframe next to the startled man's hand. Duo was up on his feet, wrenching the knife out and heading towards the door.

"Let's roll."

* * *

The darkness was uncanny. Thick, black and suffocating, it almost held the persona some ancient dark god, flowing through L2, seeping into the doorways, into the skin. The silence was absolute, watchful. Quatre shuddered while he and Duo waited as Sid checked the way was clear down a small alleyway. He had forgotten, in the relative safety of Sid's flat, the realities of L2. It had to be the most unpleasant colony he had ever been on. The corruption and misery seemed to coat his very skin and the air he breathed. How did Duo remain so upbeat, he thought miserably, watching the cheerful swing of Duo's chestnut braid across his back. They were moving silently again, flitting from shadow to shadow, skulking like rats down the tight alleyway, Sid in the lead with Duo bringing up the rear. The alleyway veered to the right to split two ways into a honeycomb of passages through which Sid guided them unerringly. Quatre glanced up at the high walls, just able to make out their tops. This place was a veritable fort unless the enemy could gain access from above. He winced when considering the chaos an ambush of that kind would cause in the tight narrow passages. Suddenly he realised they were passing underground. He hesitated, smelling the slightly stale air blowing through, and then Duo's hand was pushing him gently forward as a whisper reached him.

"Used ta be th' old sewer system. Broke ages ago, then gangs took it over. Welcome ta th' underground."

For a moment, Quatre couldn't see a thing. Experimentally he waved a hand in front of his face, misjudged the distance and whacked Sid on the shoulder, making the man jump violently. His hushed curse echoed softly around the tunnel, mixing with Duo's quiet chuckle.

"Let's take a few ta adjust our eyes, yeah?" Duo suggested. They stood in the passage, breathing softly, until Quatre could make out the faint outlines of his companions. Slowly they moved on again as the light grew stronger, until the passage suddenly came into junction, lit by strips of dingy, humming electric lights. Duo stood for a moment in the centre, looking around, the poor lighting casting harsh shadows on pale skin.

"First on th' left?" he murmured. Sid nodded and Duo slipped back to stand next to Quatre allowing Sid to go first. Duo's face was uncharacteristically serious, expect for the wild light dancing at the very back of his eyes.

"Quat, wait up a sec," Quatre obeyed, looking curiously at his friend. "Look, s'all gonna be touch an' go here. We're kinda walkin' inta a den of wolves an' I really need ya ta trust me wit this. Promise ya'll follow orders no matter wha'?"

Quatre frowned at the unusual request. Following the orders to the letter was of utmost important in their survival in their line of work. "Duo, you know that I…"

"No," Duo's voice was strangely urgent. "I need ta heat ya say it. No matter wha' it looks like or wha' ya think is happenin' ya do wha' I say."

"Okay," Quatre replied slowly, " I promise to follow your orders no matter what." Duo sighed, nodded and smiled.

"Thanks."

Then he was pushing on into the passageway, leaving a confused Sandrock pilot behind him. Quatre hurried to catch up, reaching the others as they halted before a rusting grid blocking the path before them. As he stepped in to join them, Quatre blinked as a powerful security light clunked on. No hiding in the shadows here. It illuminated, for the first time, Sid talking in low voices to two guards. Quatre studied them cautiously, taking in his first look at real L2 gangsters. The first was young, not much older than himself, tall and gangly, still growing into his body. His fair hair was carefully gelled while his face suffered from acne, but he was all attitude, from his leather jacket and scuffed boots to the knife he wasn't holding quite right. He stared aggressively at Duo, who returned the look unfazed, and Quatre was disturbed to find some kinship in their posturing. It was the other man Quatre judged to be the greater threat. Tall and watchful with dark skin and mesmerising tattoos swirling up his muscled arms, he was the one Sid was engaging in deep conversation. The man's dark gaze drifted over Sid's head to rest on Duo and it seemed the man was satisfied as he gave a slow nod, stepping aside to wrench open the grate, leaving the way open to a flight of stairs descending below. Filing through with the others, Quatre paused on the second step down as the faint beat of music reached his ears, the tremors of the bass pulsing through his alert body. A shiver escaped him as he realised that Khan and his den of wolves were waiting just below.

Each step down brought the music closer. It was some form of techno funk and certainly not to Quatre's taste. Finally they reached the bottom and entered a long low room, filled with unhealthy yellow lighting and blue swirling smoke. It was a vice den, Quatre swiftly realised. A bar at one end was busy serving the various gambling games that were taking place across the floor, where men of all nationalities sat jealously guarding their cards. The table nearest to them was playing poker with a substantial pool of takings growing. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol. Trailing behind the others as they headed to the bar, Quatre's attention was caught by a flash of what he thought was steel, but it was only a man playing with a piece of foil. Breathing slowly to calm his pulse, the full seriousness of the situation hit him. Low profile, that's what Duo told him. Get noticed too quick, rock the boat and it might just get you killed. Quatre could well believe him. In his few moments here, with his trained eye, Quatre had realised there were enough weapons in the room to supply an army. This was an army, of sorts, and the silver medallions and black tattoos of a snarling wolf's head was a sober reminder of who owned this army's loyalty.

"Three double vodkas."

While Duo ordered, Quatre took the opportunity to look surreptitiously around. He watched in curious confusion, the silver foil he had noticed earlier was held up to a candle's flame, the heat scorching the bottom. Thin streams of vapour rose and the man brought it hungrily to his nose, chasing the vapours and sniffing them up. Quatre's jaw dropped in horror. Drugs! The men were doing drugs.

"Chasin' th' dragon." He glanced behind him to see Duo looking over his shoulder at the men, his face sober. A cool glass was pressed into his hand.

"W-what kind?" he managed.

"Opium," Duo replied simply then glanced at the liquid swirling around Quatre's glass. "Mebbe ya should just pretend ta drink tha' one. Don' wan' ya wasted."

Quatre nodded gratefully, still taking things in. He frowned as a young woman entered the room, dressed, in his mind, rather provocatively. He flushed pink as she straddled a man, confidently placing a full and slow kiss on his lips. Glancing hastily away, he opened his mouth.

"She's a prostitute," Duo murmured, anticipated his question, but he wasn't looking at the woman. His attention seemed to be taken by the man she was sitting on, was laughing loudly at his friend's catcalls, fondling the woman's rear as he stood up. Duo continued talking as the man swaggered towards the bar, an arm wrapped possessively around the woman's waist. "Khan runs a big prostitute ring 'long 'sides other thin's. Welcome ta th' underground, man. Get used ta it an' get ya head back on."

The friendly slap to his shoulder took the sting out of the remark but Quatre knew the 02 pilot was right. He needed to get his head back into the game. Later he could be disgusted by the depravity and debauchery but not now. Taking a deep breath, Quatre studied the man Duo was interested in.

Not unattractive. His skin was the sallow complexion of the Hispanic. Further testament to his origins was evident in the thick curling black hair that was slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck, and the straight brows, which gave the man an arrogant air. Duo obviously knew him and was eyeing him with a faintly mocking edge. As if sensing the derision, the Spaniard looked up, seeking out Duo's gaze. At once his face hardened into a scowl and he quickened his pace, dragging the woman along with him.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" They didn't seem to approve of polite greetings on L2 but Duo was, as ever, unfazed. He grinned in reply, raising his fingers in mock salute.

"Yo, Roderigo, ya lookin' good. Risin' through th' ranks like no-one's business. Who would'a thought, hey? Even got ya self a woman." Duo's voice was cheerful, bordering on offensive. Roderigo bristled and Quatre recognised the signs. Duo knew exactly how to wind this man up. He was playing him with the same ease and pleasure he held when irritating Wufei. Duo knew all his weaknesses, all the chinks in his armour, and he was poking them with every stick he had.

"Answer the question, asshole."

Duo raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Wha'? Did no-one tell ya? 'Ere ta see th' boss-man. Y'know when he's gonna be ready?"

Roderigo's eyes flickered over to a door in the far corner, guarded by an intimidating oriental.

"He's busy."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"I know tha', genius. 'm askin' _when_'s he not gonna be busy."

"When he's ready, little shit."

Quatre flinched. Sometimes Duo was too good at winding people up. Roderigo looked ready to clock him, and the prostitute had wisely slipped away. Thankfully, Duo seemed to realise he was pushing it too far.

"Ok, ok." Hands raised apologetically, Duo smiled brightly at the man's vindictive glare. Appeased, Roderigo looked at Quatre.

"An' who's this little punk? We're not some fuckin' kiddie's home."

Duo spared Quatre a fleeting glance.

"Bryon."

Quatre kept his head down as the Spaniard sneered at him awhile longer. Then an idea seemed to enter the man's head.

"Hey, Maxwell."

"Yeah?"

"Like I said, Khan's gonna be some time. You and your little pal wanna play pool against me and Jay?" Roderigo's voice was deceptively friendly. Duo shrugged casually, ignoring Quatre's sharp, warning glance.

"Sure. Pass th' time and all tha' crap."

"Are you insane?" Quatre hissed quietly as they walked over to the pool table. "That man is a bomb waiting to go off. Are you deliberately trying to antagonise him?"

Duo gave him a small smile, "He's also a bully an' bloody predictable. Trust me, Quat, run wit' me on this one." He leaned closer, voice no more than a breath. "Beat 'em ta hell an' back." The arm looped around his neck gave a brief squeeze and was gone. Duo was pressing a cue into his hand, giving him a wide, wicked smile.

_Crack! _Roderigo had lined up his shot, sending the white viciously into the neat triangle, scattering stripes and spots across the green. He smirked as a spot rolled neatly into the top right hand pocket.

"Wanna wager, amigo?"

"Your money, man. Wha' wager?" Duo smiled tauntingly as Roderigo potted another shot neatly. Blue cube in hand, he rubbed it across the tip of the cue.

"Knives."

Quatre saw Duo's grasp on his cue tighten momentarily. He had never seen the other with out the battered combat knife strapped within his right boot.

"Done."

Neither put their knives on the table.

Roderigo missed his next shot and swore foully. Slipping him a wink, Duo stepped up to take his turn. While the game whiled on, Quatre waited his turn, considering their situation in his mind. He wasn't sure what exactly Duo was trying to do. The braided boy was being deliberately antagonising, that much was clear, but why, Quatre couldn't fathom.

"Hey! Hello? Bryan? Hey!"

Quatre jumped violently as a bony elbow dug into his ribs as coarse laughter from all around brought him back from his daze. Duo was chuckling next to him as he flushed.

"C'mon, man, ya turn. Good luck!"

Mollified at his mistake, Quatre stepped up to the table and assessed the game. Bending down to line up a shot he heard snorting laugher and was well aware of the image he must present - Some poor little preppy boy who was in over his head and out of his league. Their game was attracting interest. Evidently Roderigo was of some standing in the gang, and Duo seemed to be well known. Gang members were abandoning their own games to watch theirs. He ignored them all. He got his angle and struck the white, potting a stripe decisively. Duo whooped. Snorting, Roderigo looked scathingly at him.

"I wouldn't get too fucking excited."

Inwardly Quatre smiled. It was a definite tactical advantage, he decided, being constantly underestimated. At times, their age truly was an attribute. In fact, he would label it as one of the main reasons they held the upper hand. Few saw through Duo's happy-go-lucky, idiotic student act, or Wufei's serious, scholarly persona. Quatre's angelic appearance and polite demeanour was more than sufficient to hide his excellent talent for pool, something that Duo had learnt of, much to his disgust, in their last safehouse.

Focused on doing as Duo asked, beating them to hell and back, Quatre didn't look up from the table, trusting Duo to watch his back. If he had have done, he would have seen Duo's satisfied smirk, been more aware of the taunting comments deliberately tossed Rodrigo's way, would have seen the Spaniard's fists tighten, his eyes slowly narrow with rage, the crowds gather to watch.

He potted the black with ease and straightened up, an unconscious smile of satisfaction playing on his lips, and was startled by a loud burst of swearing erupting from the gangster's mouth.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Roderigo was glaring at Duo who was laughing openly as he high-fived Quatre. "You little shit!"

"Hey," Duo held up his hands mockingly, still shaking with laughter, "beat ya fair an' square. Ain't Bryan's fault ya can't play for shit. Damn," he broke into laughter again, "did ya see tha'? Ya didn' even touch th' table! Well, wha' ya know? Brand new knife for my collection."

"Tha' was a goddamn trick, asshole. Want the knife? I'll give you a brand new sheath too, in your trickster friend's chest!" Quatre's eyes widened as the gangster started forward, knife at the ready. He reached for his gun but Duo beat him to it. A sudden crack rang out and Roderigo was swearing as his knife clattered to the floor. Duo kicked it neatly out of reach, tossing the cue idly from hand to hand. The man was swearing in Spanish, ending his torrent by spitting challengingly at the L2 boy. Sensing a fight, the gang members had pressed in, forming a tight circle around the two. Quatre watched anxiously. He sensed his involvement would not be welcome.

"Yeah, well, warnin' ya now, amigo. Don' mess wit me an' mine." Duo's voice held a flat warning.

"Got ya self a bitch, huh? Movin' up in the world, aren't we?"

Duo sneered at the insult, moving forward to crowd the other's space, eyes flashing at the prospect of a fight. "Ya as mouthy as ever, but when ya done talkin', 'm ready ta go."

With a snarl, the other leapt, but Duo moved nimbly to one side, watching at he stumbled past. His cue was in motion as he wielded it in a manner not unlike his gundam's scythe, rapping Roderigo hard on the back of his head, causing the man to stagger as he tried to spin around. Then Duo was there, shoving him back against the wall, cue tight across his throat, cutting of his air as he feebly struggled for release. The fight was over before it began. Duo stared up at the man, his eyes flat and hard.

"All these years an' ya still can' fight worth shit. Ya gotta watch ya mouth, Roderigo. I've bin lotsa thin's but I ain't neva bin a whore, an' Bryon over there certainly ain't. Now I know ya like ta think ya th' big man 'round here, but ya better lissen close coz I ain't gonna repeat myself. Ya piss me off in any way, I do more than this. I'll break ya fuckin' neck."

Duo leant closer.

"Got it?"

Roderigo wheezed.

"I said, got it?" the braided boy snarled, pressing down harder.

"I think he got it."

Duo's head turned slowly towards the source of the voice and Quatre followed suit. That voice made him shiver. The normal harsh L2 accent with an underlying oriental slur. Calm, amused and altogether relentless. Its owner was…surprisingly normal. Clear oriental descent, with shoulder-length black hair. Average height, wiry build. His angular face held just the faintest tint of cruelty, only visible when you knew where to look. He could be easy trust, easy to underestimate. At the moment, he simply looked amused to see what was by all accounts his worst enemy half-killing a gang member. Khan. Quatre had no need to be told, no need for Duo's warnings. He didn't trust this man. Simple as that. He glanced back at Duo, who showed no sign of letting up. His grin was suddenly a little too wide and a little too wild.

"Hey Khan. How's it hangin'?"

"Been better." Khan paused for a moment. "I said, I think he's got it."

"Oh I dunno," Duo drawled. "He's got a pretty thick head." He stood back, abruptly releasing his hold. Roderigo slid to the floor, clutching his neck, gasping for air as Duo spun the cue easily in one hand before placing it back on the table. Sensing the drama was over, the crowds dispersed and the hum of conversation picked up once more. Khan stepped softly closer to Duo.

"Bullying my gang members, you little shit?" The voice was soft and disturbingly vindictive.

"Yeah, well, ya know wha' they say. Why go th' long way round when ya can go straight ta th' top?"

Khan looked sharply at him and suddenly it all clicked. Animals. Khan's wolves were a pack in a literal sense, a pack with a pecking order. And Duo, a newcomer, was fighting his ground, marking his territory and working his way up the ranks. But he wasn't waiting for the natural succession of events. He didn't have time.

Quatre looked at his fellow pilot, his comrade in arms. The pilots had only be working together for less than three months and, while he had learnt much about them and relished the brotherhood they were forming, there was still much unknown to him. He had automatically been drawn to Duo, to his warmth and life. He had seen Duo in the heat of battle, seen Shinnigami's rage, seen him kill in cold blood and laugh while he caused devastation. He has seen the boisterous boy who sang in the shower and danced as he washed the dishes, seen the start of a loyal friend, who fiercely protected and cared for those he loved.

But this Duo he had not seen. This Duo was ruthless and reckless in one. Moving with calculated abandon, wildly gambling his soul, flinging himself from ledge to ledge, following a path only he knew, throwing himself into the rip current of L2, barely grasping but never missing. Quatre shivered. He had one standard handgun with half a carton of extra ammunition. There was no way he was walking out of here alive unless it was through Duo. He had never been so completely in someone else's hands before, and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling.

"You've got my attention, Duo Maxwell, if that's what you wanted. You had better make this worth my time."

Khan had turned on his heel and was striding back towards his personal quarters. Sid, who had slipped away not long after they had entered, was looking meaningfully at Duo, who shook his head slightly. Quatre felt Duo lightly touch his arm.

"C'mon. Let's go party."

**To Be Continued…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** Mention of alcohol, gambling, prostitution. Violence and blackmail. 

**A/N: **Feeling a little surprised as my plot line did a one-eighty and rebelled as Quatre suddenly refused to leave Duo's side for a couple of scenes. Finally managed to tempt/force him out at gunpoint. He's managed to cause some rather large repercussions for later on – poor boys! However it does mean that I've moved away from my original scribbles so I'd be grateful to know what you think. Big thank you to those who reviewed, your comments were really appreciated. The rest of you, don't be shy!

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Six**

Khan's private quarters were…unimpressive. Quatre stared round at the room, disappointment twisting his gut. The feeling surprised him slightly but inside he knew that he had been hoping, almost longing, to see something of…quality on L2, somewhere he could maybe feel slightly more at home, more comfortable with. The admission made shame and guilt mix with the disappointment. To distract himself he took in the room more closely, starting with the door standing opposite the one they had entered, a bolthole, he supposed. The room was sparse. There was a low bed previously containing two girls lazily inspecting their nails. They had left the room on Khan's brief command. There was a basin and a rusty shower stood in an alcove. Duo had said this was one of the most powerful gangs on L2. Wherever their power and money was, it wasn't here. A card table, left in mid-game, was surrounded by several chairs and bottles of whisky. Khan was stood by the table, indicating to them to sit. They sat and an uncomfortable silence fell. Khan seemed in no hurry to speak, studying the faces before him closely. Quatre shivered. The man's eyes were a stormy grey, flecked with gold. Wolf's eyes. Their intense scrutiny almost made him squirm as he attempted to return the gaze neutrally, until Khan looked away dismissively.

"Who's your hustler pal?"

Duo grinned quickly at Quatre. "Bryon. He wa' on th' ship wit me when th' police turned up. Got tangled an' had ta cut an' run wit me."

Khan nodded, apparently loosing interest. Instead he leant back, crossing his arms over his chest and gave Duo a cold smile.

"So, Demon. What do ya want?"

* * *

There was silence. Duo was sitting with his chair backwards, arms resting on the back, eying Khan who was staring into his half glass of whisky, swirling the amber liquid idly.

"So," Khan spoke slowly, "let me get this straight. You want me and my gang to help bust you and your little buddy off L2. You want us to be your firearms and to crack open the control and access centres long enough to break the lock down. In payment for this, I get in with whoever this big ass dealer it is who you're gun running for, which is the reason why you need to get off L2 in the first place."

Duo nodded. "Got it in one."

"Yet if we screw up then we all get screwed. Why the fuck should I take those odds?"

Duo snorted. "Wha'ever, Khan. Like hell ya would. Handed me over ta save ya ass an' they'd turn a blind eye. 'Sides, gains outweigh risks. Ya get in wit G an' th' profit margins are tha' big ya mamma couldn' imagine 'em."

It wasn't a lie. Huge profit could be made out of involvement on the right side of the war. Quatre held his breath. Duo with his silver tongue could make even hell seem appealing.

"Bullshit," the gangster laughed unpleasantly. "Think I'm fuckin' stupid, Maxwell? Or have you forgotten how much I hate your ass. You can fool the others with your pretty little face and clever moves, but it don't work on this bastard. I don't like you and I don't trust you. You're expecting me to run on a damn guarantee. There's no fucking way to check this dick, G, even exists. If you want to get the goods, I want something upfront. Now."

Quatre winced. Khan was good. Mind whirling, he glanced at Duo. If Khan wanted something upfront then maybe Quatre could give it to him. After all he was the Winner heir, and despite his current tensions with his father, he did still have access to the massive resources of his family. He'd already used his wealth and status many times to help aid the war effort, this would just be one more time. But even as he opened his mouth to speak, Duo caught his eye, the word _no _most emphatically stamped on his face. However, Khan's attention was already caught.

"Got something to say?"

"No, he ain't," Duo's tone was brusque, his eyes burning with anger. "An' fuck ya, Khan. Ya know I keep my word. If I say I'll cut a deal, then I'll cut a deal."

Slumping back, Quatre cringed internally at his near error and watched as Duo's anger ignited Khan's own enough to distract the gang leader from the Sandrock pilot.

"That ain't good enough, rat. You're asking me to pull some big shit here and I have a damn big score to settle with you."

"Fuck!" Duo exploded. "Will ya let it go, Khan! So wha'-th'-fuck-ever I didn' join ya gang. I didn' run wit no gang. Ya know I don' do tha' shit." Duo's glare turned scathing. "'Sides I never could work out wha' ya wanted more, my knife or my ass. Thought I was a dumbass? Ya had more than enough whore walkin' for ya, ya didn' need one more. Sheesh, talk 'bout an over-reaction."

"Stop strokin' your damn ego, Maxwell. Tha' wasn't the score."

Duo's head shot up as he stared at Khan with narrowed eyes.

"Wha'?"

"Have ya forgotten?" Khan's voice was a bitter sneer. "I could have been here four fucking years ago if it wasn't for your damned meddling –"

"Shit, Khan!" Duo's eyes were wide in genuine surprise. Quatre felt a wave of lurching panic from him. "Swear ta God tha' weren' 'bout y-"

"Really? Then who? Saving that fat git upstairs?"

"Wha'? No! For Christ's sake, there were kid's down there as well an' th' Alliance less than a block away. Wha' th' fuck did ya think they were gonna do when they got there?"

"And this?" Khan lurching to his feet, the chair slamming back on to the floor. Eyes blazing, he pulled back his hair to reveal a deep ugly scar stretching from his ear to his neck. Duo let out a bitter laugh.

"Ya were comin' after me wit a bunch of heavies an' a chain wrapped around ya fuckin' fist. Wha' ya expect me ta do, give ya directions ta th' nearest salsa bar?"

"Nice try," Khan had skirted around the table and was leaning down, right in front of Duo, "but it ain't good enough. You don't have a leg to stand on, Maxwell. You need to get off L2? Fine. Done. But I hold all the cards here and I want something in return. And that's going to be on my terms and my terms only. Capeesh?"

Quatre watched aghast as Duo hesitated, eventually giving a tight little nod. Khan straightened up, a predatory look of satisfaction on his face. He smirked at Duo.

"Wait here."

Quatre watched as he strode off, disappearing through the bolthole door. Duo slumped slightly in his chair. "Shit."

"Duo, maybe we can negotiate. We can use my –" Quatre flinched as Duo turned on him.

"Leave it, for damn's sake. I've already told ya –" cutting himself off abruptly, Duo drew a shaky breath and lowered his voice further. "Sorry. Look, bad as this seems, it could be a hell lot worse. He thinks he's got me, so trust me it's goin' good. I just kinda forgot how well he holds a grudge."

Quatre gave him a wan smile. "Guess it puts Heero and Wufei's moods in context."

He received a surprised chuckle for his pains, which was cut off abruptly as Khan re-entered the room, handling a sleek laptop. He watched as the two teenagers straightened up from their conversation. The laptop was placed on the table and snapped open, whirring quietly to itself as it woke up. Khan sat back, watching Duo.

"Y'know what, Maxwell? I'm rather enjoying having you at my beck and call." Khan's voice was disturbingly soft. To Quatre's surprise, Duo flinched then lashed out.

"Cut th' crap, Khan, an' get ta th' point, will ya. Whaddya wan' me ta do?"

Surprisingly, Khan didn't take offence at Duo's impatient tone. He almost seemed to take a perverse pleasure from having the advantage over the braided boy. He leaned forward.

"Wait your turn, boy. As you can see, things ain't exactly been easy round here. Business ain't what it used to be. The war is screwin' things up proper. Now that wouldn't be too bad, but as I'm sure you've heard, we've got a new good guy in town."

"Ryan Mercer," Duo muttered.

"Chief of police and as straight as fucking die. He's not exactly co-operative and it's starting to piss me off. He's got a nice little family, from what I heard. Wife, several kids. I know you like lots of targets."

Quatre felt sick. Scarcely daring to breath, he looked carefully at Duo. Duo's hands were flexing under the table.

"In th' middle of a lockdown? Don' be a jackass. Wouldn' get near him."

"With the rig you want me and my boys to pull, you can bet your ass he'll be there."

Duo's eyes narrowed. "Ya wan' me ta shoot him if an' when I get th' chance? Don' sound all tha' water-tight for ya."

A mocking smile curled the man's thin lips. "Damn, you've got me there. Looks like I'll be needing something else." Duo's face twitched. Standing up, Khan turned the laptop around so it faced the two pilots and came to stand behind them, leaning down to speak into Duo's ear.

"Now you see, this is the problem with bloody do-gooders. Wan' to help every bastard everywhere."

Quatre stared at the webpage Khan had drawn up. A bold banner proclaimed 'The L2 Fabella Initiative'. Quickly, he scanned the rest of the page_…a united coalition with local government, guilds, religious authorities and trade unions to get the orphaned and vulnerable off the streets and poverty of L2………the most effective strategy………with dedicated staff and generous financial backing from multiple governments and agencies………applauded by the UN and ESCSS………signed Chairman, Chief of Police Ryan Mercer………_

"Ya fuckin' bastard." Duo was white, glaring as the screen. Khan chuckled, malicious enjoyment seeping into his voice.

"They're doing an excellent job. Shame they weren't around when you were a streetrat, isn't it? Get to it, Maxwell."

"Duo?" Quatre turned, puzzled, to his friend, to watch as nimble fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard. The screen flickered, window after window appearing as encryption codes were entered, as Duo slithered and slid between securities and firewalls. "Duo!" The motion had stopped and Quatre was looking at the banking account of the L2 Fabella Initiative.

"Empty it all. Now. Into banks 278399#2334, 738853#8396 and 7780283#0998."

Fingers in motion once more, Duo hit the button as the account began to empty, figures decreasing as the money swirled down the drain into the underground.

"Duo! No!"

"Shut th' fuck up, baka." Duo's voice was barely audible, hissing from clenched teeth. Quatre stared numbly at the empty account.

"Melt their administrative systems."

"For fuck's sake…"

Khan's voice cracked like a whip. "Do it now or the deal's off."

Fingers shaking, Duo dragged up more information. Quatre's practised eyes ran over the virus codes he was using. Skagos. Beyond retrieval. The countdown started, Duo sat back, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. He didn't look at Quatre. The bar slowly crept up to completion, striking the 100 marker and sending the L2 Fabella System into chaos.

"Great job, Demon. Set them back four years or so, at least."

"Bastard."

Khan looked thoughtful as he finally stood back from Duo's chair. Duo remained seated, staring fixedly ahead.

"When ya finished preenin', can we head?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. Quatre rose, anxious to get out of the oppressive room and get of the colony as soon as possible. Glancing at his watch, he bit his lip. Time was running on. Duo followed suite, jerkily standing. They began to move for the door when Khan's smooth, thoughtful voice stopped them.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this desperate, Maxwell." Duo froze but didn't turn around. "That cargo crap Sid fed me was bullshit, you wouldn't come to me over some late deliveries and no-one here is exactly looking for you, yet." Quatre watched as Duo's jaw worked, and fought down the urge to bolt for the door. Duo finally turned as Khan padded over.

"Wha' th' fuck are ya on 'bout?"

Quatre frowned as Khan came closer and closer, invading Duo's personal space, forcing the other to tilt his head back to meet the man's eyes.

"I've been hearing rumours. Big rumours. Concerning all sorts of armies. OZ Romfeller, the Rebel Alliance. Since we both know you're not a big fan on authority figures, I'm guessing you're tied up in the rebels. The question is _how much_?" Duo remained silent, as Quatre felt his eyes widen in shock. Khan spared him a sideways glance and gave a low chuckle. "Your innocent hustler friend, huh? I bet he knows how to use that gun he's carrying." Duo's eyes narrowed as Quatre flushed, cursing himself inwardly. His face, as always, betrayed him. His heart on his sleeve. Khan raised a mocking eyebrow. "Now, I can't confirm this for sure, but my contacts tell me that your ship holds some damn interesting and damn large cargo…I'm sure OZ would love to hear all about tha-"

"Ya fuckin' son of a bitch…"

Suddenly steel flashed and Duo was in motion, fisting Khan's shirt, a lethal blade pressed hard to his throat. There was a click and Khan's gun was shoved against Duo's flat stomach, pure hatred mirroring on the two faces. A second click sounded, and Khan's eyes flickered to see Quatre press his gun against the man's head. Quatre's heart was pounding as he rapidly analysed the situation, thoughts filtering through his head. This was the first time either party had touched the other, a gunshot would echo down the corridor and bring the Wolves in baying for the kill, and even if they killed Khan and got away with it they would still have no way off L2. Khan knew it, although for an instant Quatre could see the flicker of fear and uncertainty as he faced the unpredictable boy in front of him, then it was hidden under the smooth inscrutable mask, but Quatre knew. Khan was still afraid of Duo.

"My price has upped," Khan almost gasped out. Duo snarled and pressed the knife tighter, drawing a thin line of blood. "Kill me and you fuckin' loose. Face it, Maxwell, you're all strung out to dry."

Slowly, Duo loosened his grip, still not removing the knife. Quatre hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Duo's next words took him completely unawares.

"Bryon, go an' sit wit' Sid."

Hurt and surprised, Quatre protested even as he lowered the gun, "Duo, no. I can help…"

Khan took the opportunity to take a step back, gun still pointed warily at Duo's midriff.

"Yeah, c'mon Duo, _Bryon _can help us negotiate."

There was an undertone in the man's voice that Quatre didn't understand but nevertheless triggered alarms in the Arabian's head. Duo, it seemed, felt the same way, as he grasped Quatre's arm and shoved him towards the door, snarling harshly under his breath, "Told ya ta go, now go."

Quatre hesitated once more by the door. Something wasn't right and he bit his lip as a wave of emotion from Duo hit him. Anger, desperation, hope, resignation, _fear_. Violet eyes sough out his, an oddly pleading look in them.

"Quat," the whisper was near desperate, "ya promised…"

Hating himself at every moment, Quatre stepped over the threshold, turning as the door shut in his face, locks clunking into the sudden quiet.

**To Be Continued…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: NON-CON SITUATIONS (e.g. rape.)** Apologies for no earlier warning. I am very sorry if this offends people. If this does, then please don't read on. Thank you! 

**A/N: **Oh my, can't believe I wrote this. Poor Duo.

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Seven**

Footsteps echoed hollowly as Quatre made his solitary way through the tunnel back to the vice den. He shivered uncomfortably. Down here, where the heat never quite penetrated through the damp and stone and steel, the air was chill and stale. He tentatively opened his sense and emotions, reaching out to the friend he had left behind, but there was nothing. The native L2's emotions were firmly sealed off. Quatre didn't know whether to be grateful or fearful. Pausing shy of the exit, he took the opportunity to check his weaponry through once more. After the explosive confrontations he had witnessed so far, he was in no doubt that he would be using the gun before he was off L2.

Thinking of the possibility drew his mind back to the cause of the urgency behind their actions. Even now, the other Gundam pilots would be on their way to the Stigittar base, trusting that Quatre and Duo would be in position. If they escaped in time, which was looking increasingly unlike in Quatre's mind, they would be able to warn the others before the transitions came into the range of the base they were attacking but even then it was a risk he didn't like to take. Recently OZ had become increasingly adept at bugging their frequencies, which was one of the reasons the attack on this base was so vital to their cause. But if they left too late or, Allah forbid, failed to get off L2 at all, there would be no way to warn the others, who be committed to conflict.

Shaking his head slightly, Quatre drew away from his tense thoughts. Concern for the others would not help them at the moment. The situation in hand already required more than enough of his attention. Besides, Duo was the one he was worried for now. Pushing open the door and nodding to Khan's sentry, Quatre scanned the room, trying to locate Sid, whom he eventually found propping up the bar. On seeing Quatre approach him alone, Sid appeared to shake off the effect of the drink that laced his breath and dragged the Arabian off to a more secluded corner, pumping him for information.

When Quatre had finished, Sid sat back, chewing absent-mindedly at the end of his lank hair.

"Khan allus did know how ta hold a grudge."

Quatre stopped the question on the tip of his tongue. He didn't want to hear the rumours off the street. He would ask Duo for the full story later, when they were off L2. Instead he questioned Sid on more relevant topics.

"What is going to happen next? What does Khan want? Duo already fulfilled the original deal," he said.

Sid's watery eyes darted about for a second, glancing fleetingly at him.

"Dunno, do I? You tell me. You were the one there."

Quatre frowned.

"And you are the one who knows these people. What is going on exactly? What are you so concerned about?"

The small eyes widened in surprise.

"I ain't worried," the man blustered, "look, could be anything, but Maxwell's a tough old alley cat. He'll be alright."

Quatre gave up; Sid obviously wasn't going to tell him. Something was evidently going on but it was over his head, but as much as he disliked it, there was little he could do. He looked around at the door once more, missing Sid's furtive, half worried look that followed his gaze.

* * *

Duo stared at the closed door, locked by his own hand, pausing to listen to Quatre's receding footsteps and suddenly wished fiercely that he were joining him. He pushed the thought ruthlessly away and turned slowly to find Khan gazing thoughtfully past him. The man met his eyes, and gave a slow smile.

"Tasty, isn't he? Bad move bringing him here, Maxwell."

Duo forced nonchalance.

"Don' worry ya head. Bryon can look after himself."

"Are you so sure of that? There's a lot of men out there."

_Thanks for the reminder. _Bitterness and concern washed through him at Khan's insinuations. He wouldn't let it come to that. Khan moved closer, a wolf circling his prey.

"You're in deep shit, Maxwell."

Indigo eyes met grey warily as the man reached out, taking his chin in a firm grip. Khan smirked, eyes roaming over Duo's face.

"I've gotta say, the years have improved what was already damn fine to start with," the eyes strayed down over his body. "I'd forgotten how fuckable you are."

Duo's eyes widened in revulsion.

"Wha'? Fu-" With a snarl, he wrenched his chin free, backing away, but Khan moved like a snake, grasping Duo's arm and twisting it viciously behind his back, shoving him up against the wall, face first, and immobilising him with a leg thrust between his and the weight of his body. Cursing violently as instinct and preservation won out over calculated planning, Duo fought to buck his attacker off, only to freeze as Khan rapped out, "One more move and the deal's off."

Standing still, Duo could feel the rapid pounding of his heart and the heavy breaths of the man pressing into him. "That's better," a low voice crooned in his ear. "Let's talk proper now your fancy friend is gone and we can't shock his innocent ears. You would have been a great fuck, Maxwell, and you managing to avoid me all those years is one of those things that really pisses me off. I always get what I want. And I will have you. Come on now, don't swear at me. We both know I'm not the first to get you. Y'know they all say you made an excellent whore in prison."

God, this was harder than he thought it would be. A barely contained wave of panic and fury was rising in him as he ground out, "I am not a whore."

Khan's rough voice only just broke through the overwhelming urge to rip the man off him and kill him.

"No, guess not. At least whores get paid."

Khan's grip shifted, Duo was spun round to face him and abruptly slammed back into the wall.

"So?" The man's eyes were dark with anticipation.

"Fuck right off."

The thin mouth twisted.

"Really? What you gonna give me then? Coz a couple of thousand and the promise of a kill don't mean shit. If you don' want to lend your body, maybe we should use your pal's? He seems such a good friend, bet he wouldn't mind. I know my wolves wouldn't."

Duo wrenched his thoughts away from the sickening possibility, ignored the vulnerable position he'd left Quatre in, and suddenly found himself doing a great impression of Heero.

"No. Bastard."

Khan stepped back, looking at him coldly.

"Then the deals off. You can get off L2 on your fucking own," he announced. Duo watched him turn back to the table, heart pounding in his chest, teeth gritted, hands clenched at his sides. He couldn't, he couldn't, he…he…mustn't think, just do. If that's what he needed to do to get them to the others then…the words were difficult to find, his throat seemed to have closed up. They came out low.

"No, wait."

"Yes?"

The man was practically purring. He felt sick. Cold eyes watching him fall in satisfaction. Deep breath.

"Once. For full aid in gettin' off L2." Damn, but he was proud his voice didn't shake. He felt sick.

"Done. Take off your weapons and put them on the table."

His body moved on autopilot as he fought to control its trembling, fought to silence the voice in his head that was screaming at him to _run, fucking run and don't look back_. One by one he pulled out his weapons, chucking them roughly down on to the table to hide the shaking in his hands. He paused, looking numbly down at the assortment of knives, guns and the odd grenade.

"An' the braid."

Ignoring the knowing smirk, he reached back reluctantly, pulling out the slender sheathed stiletto and deadly wire. The picks he left in place. Fuck Khan, they weren't weapons. Moving behind him, Khan patted him down, searching him roughly, invasively. He stood, body locked rigid, glaring at the door opposite until Khan stood in front of him again and he could glare at him. Khan gave a low chuckle, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"I'm going to damn well enjoy this."

The defiant part of him, the part that was Gundam pilot, rebel and soldier, was furious and taunting, while that other part of him, the child trapped with memories and no where to go, was whimpering _please don't, please don't_.

Suddenly Khan grasped the base of his braid, dragging him forward for a brutal kiss, other hand locking around his waist, crushing him to the man's body. Frozen for a moment, Duo felt Khan's tongue invade his mouth as teeth bit savagely on his lips and tongue, flooding his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. He let out an involuntary muffled curse and began desperately to struggle, panicking as Khan held him closer. He didn't want this, he didn't want this…he was abruptly released and completely unprepared for the vicious backhand that sent him tumbling to the floor. Wincing, he looked up to the sound of Khan's amusement as the gang leader helped himself to more whisky. Furious at his lack of control, Duo hauled himself to his feet. He would not give this bastard the satisfaction. His face throbbed. He ignored it. _Survival. Survive this._

Khan was staring at him.

"Shoes off."

He kicked his combat boots off into a corner, his socks with them, staring flatly at Khan all the while.

"Undo your shirt."

He couldn't do it. He couldn't look at Khan. His eyes flickered to the floor as he unbuttoned the shirt from the bottom. Halfway up, the gang leader stopped him, eyes hooded with lust as he tossed back another whisky and threw the glass to shatter by Duo on the floor. Men such as Khan and alcohol were never a good combination, if Duo remembered correctly. Abruptly, Khan reached for him, yanking hard at the shirt, bodily ripping it of the lithe form. Duo flinched despite himself as hard hands roamed his body, shoving him backwards until his legs hit the bed and he fell backwards.

Khan was on him, straddling his hips, trapping him beneath his superior weight as he slowly crawled his way up his body. Instinctively Duo began to flex to throw the man off but stilled as Khan groaned at the contact he involuntarily made. He shrank back down onto the bed as a hoarse voice whispered in his ear, "Looks like you're havin' fun," and lips caressed and bit at his throat.

He couldn't answer, couldn't breath.

Khan abruptly lifted his weight and Duo scrambled up onto his elbows, heart pounding, dreading what was to come. Defiance and disgust duelled within him as Khan divested himself of his shirt and shoes, unbuttoning his flies. Then his narrow hips were seized in a bruising grip as greedy hands yanked viciously hard at his belt, snapping the leather off, ripping his trousers from him and forcing his legs open.

Sneering, Khan seized him for another kiss but drew back to stare at Duo's bitter, unresponsive face.

"Someone's not tryin' too hard," he taunted. And blazing anger rose. Duo heard himself speak, low and choked.

"'M lettin' ya freakin' rape me wit' out gettin' ya bastard head ripped off."

Khan's face was twisted with lust, anger and amusement and kissed him again, dragging at the roots of his hair. It was descending into a scalding nightmarish blur, full of mocking words and touches, then agonizing, tearing pain was pinning him to the bed and he couldn't…he couldn't…he needed to run … and hide…but he couldn't leave, trapped by his damn loyalty and desperation and by the heaving body on top of him. So he started to hide in his head, in the darkness at the back, wrapped around the sobbing streetchild…a ringing blow to his face brought him sharply back to the present and he almost screamed with pain, trapping it stubbornly in his throat even as he panted in agony.

"Oh no, Maxwell, damn you feel good. Wouldn't want you to miss this one." Khan's voice was groaning, muffled by moans and Duo's flesh. Suddenly a new pain joined the other and Duo gasped, flinging his head back in surprise, as Khan sank his teeth into his shoulder, deeper and deeper until the teeth met, holding Duo in place as his body shook with the trauma, jerking as Khan bulled deeper into him.

It took an intolerable length of time but at last Khan finished it was an exultant roar, collapse onto the slender body beneath him. Duo lay in agonized stillness, head turned sharply away, pressing into the mattress, lip bitten through, and eyes screwed shut, fists clenched, white knuckled into the grimy sheets. Khan stirred with a grunt of pleasure, levering himself up slightly. Duo felt the weight shift, felt the mess on his thighs, felt the mocking caress to his face.

He didn't want to feel.

Khan was lapping at the wound left on his neck. Khan's mark. Khan's territory. Khan was finally getting on him, getting another whisky, as Duo dragged his eyes open, looking up at the pipe-encrusted ceiling. He didn't look down.

He didn't want to see.

With an effort, he pulled himself onto his side, biting his bloody lip so as not to cry out. Shaky hands grasped a corner of the rumpled sheet, dragging it over the lower half of his body. His

His gaze switched from the ceiling, away from Khan, away from the door where Quatre left, to stare blankly at the opposite wall, containing the all-important bolthole. He couldn't get up just yet.

**To Be Continued…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning**: **NON**-**CON** **SITUATIONS** (e.g. **rape**.) Apologies for no earlier warning. I am very sorry if this offends people. If this does, then please don't read on. Thank you! 

**A/N: **Hello my lovely readers. I'm so sorry I left you on that chapter for so long. Hopefully this and the following update should be relatively quick. As always, reviews and comments are a GREAT encouragement to write and post faster. I really hope you're enjoying the story so far – let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Eight**

He shouldn't have brought Quatre here. He knew how it would have ended. Quatre, bless him, couldn't help but wear his heart on his fucking sleeve. Bad enough that he brought him into the den, why it was a good idea to bring him into Khan's lair hell only knew. Guess he really was a baka. Heero kept on telling him so. Quatre had sat there during the whole damn negotiation practically bleeding concern for him. Of course Khan was going to exploit that. But then even if he had left Quatre outside, Khan had already seen him half-kill Roderigo. He already knew Duo had Quatre under his protection, knew he wouldn't allow him to be hurt. _Soft-hearted twat_, he sneered at himself. Yet that's what he had always done, wasn't it. Take all the little ones under his wing. Try and protect them from the harsh life they were in. Solo had done his best with him but once he was gone there had been no one left but himself. Why should others go through what he had done already?

_It should be me. _

It wasn't Quatre's fault. The poor guy was in way over his head in these waters. Any of them would have been, expect maybe Trowa. From the way Trowa described them, mercenary politics weren't that different to street gang politics. If Quatre had got a real chance to properly screw up then maybe Duo could have got pissed off. Not that it would have helped anything. As it was, Quatre had tried his best. The potholes were unavoidable anyway. He hadn't had a damned choice at the end of the day. He couldn't have left Quatre at Sid's. His presence had made drawing Khan out a hell of a lot easier and it would have been too risky to leave him behind. Once Khan had finished fooling around, they would have to move quickly. Wouldn't do to leave 04 behind now, would it? Besides, he doubted that Quatre would have let him go alone. The little bastard could be surprisingly stubborn.

He had known deep down that it would come to this. Known ever since Sid told him who ruled the roost, known when he had first seen the malicious hatred in Khan's eyes.

_Bullying my gang members, you little shit?_

But he had thrust it to one side, refusing to properly look at it until there was nothing else left. Didn't do to dwell on that sort of thing, but there was no question about it. They needed to get off L2. The guys needed them to be there. One more sacrifice for the war right?

_It should be me. It's only fuckin' chance tha' I'm alive now – livin' on borrowed time. Why should others suffer wha' I can do?_

Words of the past coming back to mock him; shouted in anger, yelled in desperation, said with resolution, whispered in resignation, sobbed in fear.

_It should be me._

Quatre, innocent, naive Quatre, who had lived all his life surrounded by family and luxury, where the streets were no more than that Dickens crap he had been whittering on about a few weeks ago, who was already appalled and disgusted by the dissolute setting of Duo's childhood, by the woman sitting on Roderigo's lap. Quatre against Duo, streetrat fuckin' extraordinaire. Didn't stand a chance, really, did he? Not in his own mind at least.

_Dumpster screwin' a whore and look at what got spat out._

Besides, like Khan had so kindly reminded him, it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. He forcibly wrenched his wandering thoughts off that path. As he had told Quatre, he had been in jail when he was nine until he escaped 17 months later. Whether it was the nature of his supposed crime, prison overcrowding, a devastating clerical error or just some sick bastard in the L2 prison system, he had ended up being shoved into a full-out prison. Not even the kindest of guards or the most vicious defence had been able to save him all the time.

Khan had wandered into his view, heading over to the shower cubical near the bolthole. Closing his eyes to avoid seeing the man, Duo brought his thoughts back on track. Great reasoning and all, but he still felt as dirty as hell…

_Y'know they all say you made an excellent whore in prison._

Suddenly his heart started to pound. They? Who? How the fuck did Khan know? Prison guards didn't mix with gang lords and none of the prisoners Duo had known were due out for a long time. Had there been a mass breakout? No, Sid would have mentioned it. Forcing himself upright, Duo bit back a whimper as deep pain lanced through his lower body. His nerves were on a hair trigger, roused from his earlier apathy. Khan wasn't in the shower; he was watching Duo, face mocking. He was still playing with him.

The handle on the bolthole door was turning.

* * *

Back in the vice den, Quatre dropped the glass of Malibu and coke he had been pretending to drink as a wave of mind-numbing terror gripped him. Beside him, Sid swore, spraying liquor from his mouth, as startled men turned to look at their reclusive table. Meanwhile Quatre grasped his chest, wrestling with a sudden childish instinct to duck below the table and hold his breath. At the back of his mind, an overwhelming fear for Duo rose its head, disturbing him as much as the other feelings. Struggling to control himself, he jumped as Sid leant over uncertainly.

"You alright, mate?"

"Duo…"

Quatre was up and moving towards the entrance to Khan's lair, only to have his progress blocked by the massive bodyguard. He was glaring up at the man, near frantic with worry, when a single shot rang out.

* * *

Roaring laughter brought Duo back from his frozen state. To his shame, he flinched back as if struck, staring, wide-eyed with disbelief, at the man before him. Taller than Khan, taller than himself by far, broad chest covered in faded leather hung with chains and used bullets, bare arms brawny and inked with gang allegiances, shaven head, violent smile. Caz Mendez had a reputation darker than hell, earning his aliases, Tartarus, and as far as Duo had known, he had been inside for the last 20 years. The man in question was still laughing, slapping Khan on the back as his gaze raked over Duo.

"Don' look like someone's too pleased to see me, hey? From the racket ya were makin', I'll bet he's all shagged out."

Khan grinned wolfishly. "He'll be up for another round, especially for you. Serves him dues for thinkin' I'm stupid enough to leave my bolt hole unguarded." He leered at Duo. "Street lessons are valuable, kid".

Duo's mind froze again on one line as Mendez headed his way.

_No fucking way._

Motion returned just too late as he sprang up. A huge hand latched around his slender wrist, flinging him back, knocking the wind from him. Gasping for breath, he fought furiously against the weight above him, horribly aware of his bare skin against the leather. Mendez was as brutal as he remembered, wrenching at his body savagely. He cried out as something already damaged tore further, lashing out in blind, child-like panic. He started at the mocking voice, which cut through his frantic thoughts.

"Still the little wildcat, I see?"

He wasn't. He wasn't a helpless child. He was a soldier, an assassin, a Gundam pilot. He was a rebel with a cause. He was more dangerous, more deadly, more of death than they would ever be. He would not be used, would not die here, would not be played with and thrown aside. Not now, not with Quatre and Sid outside, with Heero, Trowa and Wufei heading towards the base. The panic cleared, leaving clear, deadly intent behind. He began to claw for the man's broad belt, where his gun was holstered. _Fuck you_.

The words slipped out, ice cold.

"Fuck you."

Mendez hesitated for a split second, eyes wide with astonishment, given Duo all the time he needed. Wrapping thin fingers around the gun, he pulled it free, placing the muzzle smoothly to the man's left arm, and with out hesitation he fired. Taking advantage of Mendez's scream of agony, he kicked his bare foot viciously downwards, slamming it into the man's groin, forcing him off Duo, off the bed, onto the floor.

The air resonated with shock, broken only by the sound of the gun clicking as Duo levelled it to Khan's head.

"You damn bastar-" Khan started.

"Shut up," Duo snarled. "Just shut th' fuck up. Ya talkin' 'bout street lesson? Well here's one for ya…don' let fuckwits like 'im near me wit a gun coz next time one of ya moves my way, I'll send ya ta hell 'fore ya can blink. I've had it wit ya damn games. I've kept my side of th' bargain an' now it's ya turn. Ya got 'til three ta get ya ass an' this twat down there outta here 'fore I shot ya both. By th' time I'm ready I –"

* * *

The effect of the gunshot was instantaneous. Gang members leapt to their feet as tables overturned with a shattering crash. Within seconds the room was bristling with weapons. Quatre suddenly understood Duo's warning of hair triggers, but there was no time to reflect. His own gun was out as he raced alongside Khan's bodyguard, reaching out frantically with his spaceheart to Duo. The closed door proved to be no obstacle to Khan's heavyset men, who placed their shoulders to the central panels and burst through the thin wood like paper. Guns at the ready, they forced their way into the room, followed closely by Quatre who shouldered his way to the front only freeze at the sight. He felt his stomach drop. A man he had never seen before was writhing on reddened cement, clutching his blood-slicked left arm. Khan was standing a few feet away, white faced, fear and fury mingling in his yellow eyes, the top button of his trousers undone. And Duo…Duo was kneeling naked in the centre of the bed, bloodied and stained sheets partially twisted around his slim body. His hair was tumbling out of the braid, chestnut contrasting with the white pallor of his skin. A hand, deeply bruised, held a gun pointed, rock steady, at Khan's forehead. Violet eyes swept over the crowd, resting for only a split second on Quatre. He shivered. There was no emotion, no shame, nothing. Only a singular, deadly intent. The God of Death, Maxwell's demon, was out tonight. His friend's eyes held nothing more than the promise of death. Unable to help himself, Quatre stared in sick fascination at his…his friend as everything clicked in to place. His stomach was churning violently and his mind was whirling. He couldn't look away. Duo's gaze had swept around the new faces then returned to Khan's, contemptuously dismissing them. He raised his eyebrows, recklessness shinning from his face. Khan nodded jerkily.

"Get back, Wolves, an' arm up."

The men started to back off, murmuring at the snarled command. Concerned, Quatre started numbly forward towards Duo but halted at Duo fixed a steely glare upon him.

"Bryon will take ya through th' briefs. By th' time I'm ready ta go, ya better be ready," he said. "Now get out an' take this bastard wit' ya." It was with a start that Quatre realised Duo meant the man on the floor not him. Khan silently hauled the injured man to his feet. Quatre hovered beside the door as Khan moved away down the corridor, but Duo wasn't looking at him.

"Duo…"

"Just get out, Quatre." The streetrat's voice was flat and tired. Quatre struggled for a moment then wisely obeyed his fellow pilot.

**To Be Continued…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning**: violence, gangs, **NON**-**CON** **SITUATIONS** (e.g. **rape**.) Apologies for no earlier warning. I am very sorry if this offends people. If this does, then please don't read on. Thank you! 

**A/N: **Short-ish chapter, but I thought you'd rather this than a bit of a wait. Please, please let me know what you think. It's written from two very different perspectives – so let me know how I'm doing, especially with Duo and the aftermath. Thank you, as always to my wonderful reviews – especially those who have been so regular and encouraging (you know who you are!)

Quick answer to a question that's been asked a few times:

**Melody** and **TanyaPotter**: Sorry, there wont be any pairings in this story. I don't actually write yaoi, and I tend to avoid writing in romance anyway – I prefer the whole soldiers/brothers-in-arms thing (very sexy when it comes to men – apart from the excessive "man-time" they seem to need – it is a mystery, what do they do, if they're not gay that is ;) Anyway that is pretty much my standard line when it comes to writing – hope that doesn't disappoint too much? And I do hope you'll continue to read and enjoy anyway puppy dog eyes

**Dickensian Streets**

**By Corralero**

**Chapter Nine**

Alone.

Duo stared blankly at the empty doorway as the previously steady hand released the gun and his bare body began to tremble. Snatching the gun up again, he struggled to disentangle himself from the sheets, grunting with pain as he finally stood upright, only to double over again, whimpering quietly. He staggered over to the shower cubical, taking a moment to fling open the bolthole door, eyes searching the empty space. He slammed the door shut and locked it. One less mistake to make. Still shaking, he moved into the shower, taking care to place the gun within reach, and slumped against the wall, reaching out to turn the faucets. With a shrieking groan, the pipes released a gush of freezing, rusty water. Duo gasped with shock as it hit his skin, running over the deep scratches down his back. He leant his forehead against the dank tiles and forced himself to bear it.

To bear it? To bear what? The freezing water, the filthy cubical, the desperate need to be clean? Eyes closed, the water ran in rivulets down his face, plastering his hair to his bruised skin as he lifted uncertain hands. Images flickered relentlessly through his mind… _Khan's hands on his hips, Mendez's terrifyingly familiar face, his relentless weight pressing him down, the tear of his shirt, a tongue in his mouth… _The uncertain hands hovered then traced the raw wound on his neck… _His back against the wall, against the bed, Khan forcing himself into him, the agonizing motions… _His stomach tightened as he choked back a helpless sob, trying to stop his mind from thinking, remembering…_The burning, claiming touches inside and out, Quatre…Quatre seeing, everyone seeing him there, naked on a filthy bed, Quatre wide-eyed with horror, disgust, revulsion_…his legs gave as his stomach twisted again and he vomited violently again and again until he was retching emptily on his hands and knees, throat burning, tears streaming down his face as the icy water beat the content of his stomach away. His breath was coming in short gasps as he hovered precariously towards shock.

With the tears still mingling with the water, he reached up slowly, grasping the piping and pulling himself to his feet. Forcibly controlling himself, he scrubbed himself clean, barely wincing as his hands brushed over bruised hips and down between his legs to the filth that still remained there. By the time he reached up to shut off the faucets, the only water on his face was from the pipes.

Shivering violently from the cold shower, he listened carefully for the sound of company, gun in hand once more. Time to start thinking straight. _Suck it up an' get back in th' game, kid. _He had what he wanted. Khan wouldn't back out now. He crossed the room to the rumpled bed. He needed to dry. Steeling himself not to react, he stripped back the soiled sheets to reach the relatively clean ones beneath. Moving briskly, he rubbed vigorously to regain lost heat only to stop and stare in dismay. Bright blood was staining the sheets. Cursing Khan and Mendez beneath his breath, he pressed the sheet back, hissing with pain as more blood glinted brightly. Duo bit his lip, fighting down the urge to swear in frustration and pain. He'd deal with it later. He'd deal with everything later. Right now all that mattered was getting the hell away from here and to the Stigittar base. After that, hell could come and he wouldn't care.

He dressed as swiftly as he could, pausing only to shrug at his torn shirt. Not much could be done about that. Feeling slightly more secure, he reached back to rapidly loosen and rebraid his hair. Slotting the picks back in, he took a moment to trace the bite mark on his neck, revealed by the flapping shirt. The bite was deep. It was going to scar. Boots crunched glass underfoot as he moved to the table holding his weapons. Practised fingers ran over them, checking ammunition and condition, and slotting them back home. Jaw set, he resolutely ignored the waves of pain running through his body as he worked. He was a solider, a killer. He could deal with pain. His hand hovered over Mendez's gun before picking it up and smoothing on the safety catch. He shoved it down his left boot, grim humour glinting momentarily in his eyes. He had plans for that gun. He left Khan's room without a backward glance.

* * *

Quatre was well aware that Duo had practically asked him to do a hundred and eighty in the personality department. Fortunately strategy was his forte, but he could still feel Sid's surprise, Roderigo's hostility and Khan's unnerving satisfaction as little Bryon took to the floor, clearly and calmly laying out the plans he and Duo had formulated in Sid's flat. To their credit, Khan and his wolves knew their trade and were wise enough to knuckle down to business without trying to pull the wool over his eyes as they suggested genuine amendments to the plan. Besides, why would they lie? It was their lives at risk now. There was nothing like the threat of death to focus the mind. Quatre had thrown himself into the task Duo had set him because there simply was no other choice. He could not afford to think of his comrade lying back there, beaten and bloodied. They were on a mission, they were in a war, and even as his mind reeled with shock, even as his stomach rebelled and his caring spirit was desperate to race back to Duo's side, the soldier, the tactician, the part of him that was loyal not only to Duo, but to the other Gundam pilots and the war effort, kept him at his post with a determination and ruthlessness that he did not know whether to encourage or despise. _One day_, he promised himself grimly, as he pointed out to Khan the codes needed to open the communications tower, _one day, when this is all over, we won't have to make such decisions_. But in the meanwhile he, like Duo, had no choice.

They were pouring over Sid's creaky old laptop (produced, much to Quatre's surprise, by Sid himself), which showed a grainy, security view of the docking bay, when Duo materialised at his side, hair tucked once more into it's customary braid, dangling over one shoulder. He was still pale and his shirt was ripped, baring bruised skin for all to see, but when Khan looked at him, he held the crime lord's gaze steadily. Admiration filled Quatre even as he ran through the modified plan. Duo listened carefully, eyes fixed on the grainy screen as the gang was noisily assembled into three groups. It was relatively simple, as all the best plans were. Group one formed the diversion, taking to the streets and heading into rival territory, stirring up trouble. Meanwhile groups two and three would head for the docking bay and the communications tower respectively. Fortunately the two were close by. Quatre and Duo would board their ships, refuel and check their cargo, under the protection of the wolves, while group three would take over the communications tower, thus getting them access off L2. Hopefully the riots and confusion caused by the first group would cause enough of a distraction for the military and police but on L2 nothing was guaranteed. Duo nodded his satisfaction.

"An' th' groups?"

By now the groups had formed. Duo ran his eye over them, clearly recognising faces, ignoring the sniggers and mutters that greeted his bruised face and torn clothing. Rumours spread fast in the underground. Quatre watched a trace of a smirk passed his damaged lips as he noted Roderigo placed in the first group. He himself had felt some relief that the hostile gang member would be placed well away from them and putting his confrontational abilities to good use.

"All to your satisfaction?" Khan sneered. Quatre watched Duo stiffed almost imperceptibly as the man at his side spoke.

"All 'cept one," Duo said calmly. How could he do it? Quatre could feel his earlier demeanour cracking under the strain of Duo and Khan in the same room, could see the gang members shifting uncertainly. How could Duo stand there and calmly converse with the man who had used his body? Quatre felt sick as he stared at Duo, looking for something, _anything_, other than that dreadful, cold functionality. He wondered if that's what others, what Sid and Khan had seen in himself, as he had left his friend, beaten and abused without a second glance to calmly given battle strategies. _What is this doing to us?_ He followed the path of their gazes to a man seated nearby, his left arm recently bandaged. It was him, Quatre realised. The mysterious man who had appeared in the room while Quatre had been gone. Quatre gazed at him, able to assess him properly for the first time. He was huge, a match for Rashid, with none of his faithful lieutenant's gentler attributes. Quatre inwardly shuddered at the naked violence and cruelty mingled with pain on the man's harsh face as he sensed the weight of the three gazes. He looked up, meeting Duo's eyes.

"You little bitch."

Bitter, derogatory and disturbingly vengeful. Quatre swallowed. He had been on L2 less than 24 hours and had never seen such an unpleasant range of people. How could Duo _bear _it? He was intensely relieved that the man's gaze did not fall on him. Duo ignored the greeting, seeming to let it wash over him, as he questioned Khan.

"Is he fit?"

"If he's not, it's your fuckin' fault. You shot him," Khan grumbled.

"Didn' shoot his gun arm. An' I only clipped him. Do wha' th' hell ya wan', but I wanna know where Mendez is," Duo returned.

Mendez. So the mysterious man had a name. He was grinning predatorily.

"Scared?"

"Not stupid," came the sarcastic response. Khan looked at Mendez.

"He's comin' with me. He's my bodyguard." Matter closed, he stared at Duo, face as smooth as ever. "My boys are ready to run on my command. Don't forget, Demon, I'll be watching your every move. You've still got part of our deal to fulfil."

Duo nodded. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively casual although his gaze, travelling steadily between Mendez and Khan, belied his tone. "Fine. S'only fair ta warn ya though, if Mendez comes wit in ten foot of me, I'll shoot him like a dog. An' this time, I won' hit his arm. Same for ya, Khan. Gimme a damn reason, asshole, an' I swear I will. Five minutes an' I'll be good ta go."

* * *

In the bustle of last minute preparation, Quatre watched Duo and Sid pull over to one side and stepped closer to join their conversation.

"Ya better crawl back under ya rock again, old man," Duo was saying with a tense smile. "Blood's gonna be spilt tonight an' we both know ya can' fight for shit." He slapped the man on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. Wouldn' be here if it weren' for ya help."

Sid shuffled, for once dropping the insulting banter.

"Prob'ly been better for ya if you weren't here, kid." Rough, unexpected concern sounded in his voice. Duo's face tightened.

"Wha' done's done. Did wha' we had ta an' knew it'd be rough from th' start." He held out a hand. "Look's like we're square now, hey?" Sid took the hand hesitantly in his pudgy grip, and then shook it firmly.

"Square. You're alright, kid, both of you." He glanced at Quatre. "Look me up next time you're in town."

Duo snorted. "Sure thing. Now get back ta ya flat an' don' open up for nothin'. Goin' ta be like hell for th' next few days."

Sid grimaced. "Don' lecture me, little rat. I've been readin' the streets since before you were born." He gave Duo one last glance, a glimmer of affection he would never admit to in his small watery eye, and then scuttled away into the milling crowd. Quatre looked around, eyes wide, as a baying howl started up all around. Men were everywhere, priming their weapons, all ages, all races, the snarling wolf's head in silver and black uniting them all. He suddenly noted the fair-headed young guard with his acne and scuffed boots howling along with the others, eyes alight with adrenaline. Duo glanced swiftly at the Arabian.

"We've got 'bout five hours 'til engagement begins. Ya ready?"

Quatre's mind swiftly did the maths. If they pushed themselves to the limit they could reach the base in three hours, which gave them two to get off L2. They could do it. They'd have to do it. He took a deep breath and nodded. Duo flipped thumbs up to Khan who gave a roared order. Khan's wolves began to move.

The pack was on the hunt.

**To Be Continued…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: violence, gangs, NON-CON SITUATIONS**

**A/N: **Ok, firstly sorry for the delay – uni is back, I'm afraid. Secondly, sorry it's a short chapter – put a lot of work into it though, so I hope you enjoy it.

_Thirdly. I really hate to mention this, but would it kill to review? I really appreciate/need the feedback, and I know a lot of you are reading this, and a lot of you have added it to your Faves and Alerts. I know it's a pain, but even just a mark out of ten would be awesome. Massive thank you to those who have reviewed._

Anyway lecture over :) Enjoy the chapter!

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero **

**Chapter Ten**

They were racing across the rooftops in the darkness of the L2 night, jumping from height to height, scrambling up ladders, sliding, chasing on the heels of the man in front, following the aerial path as securely as a hunting run. The vote had been cast against the sewers and underground tunnels in favour of this and so Quatre felt, for the first time ever, the thrill of chasing the scent, running with the pack. Up here, the dim streetlights were golden pools. The filth of the streets, the stench and decay, the oppressive heights of buildings were far below. Up here was clean, the path was clear. No twisting, splintered alleys or tunnels, no stuffy, damp chambers. A pathway above, away from the prying eyes, the shadows and threats. Up here, the wolves ruled.

And suddenly it made sense. A flash of insight and he got it. He could see it, the allure, the call of a gang. Security, belonging, identity. He remembered now Duo and his' fraught journey across L2, the isolation and fear. Stray animals, fair game for the predators. And now the hunted was the hunter. Quatre could feel his confidence rise, buoyed by the men around him. Safety in numbers, as the saying went. Power in numbers as well.

Quatre slowed himself as the gang drew to a stop, grabbing hold of steel piping to slow his progress. Glancing below, chest heaving with exertion, he saw the cause of the sudden caution. They were moving over the tops of warehouses surround a military base. In the floodlit yard below he could see the frantic activity of men, flitting around mobile suits and stockpiles of weapons. Orders and commands echoed up into the shadows where the wolves continued to move softly. Somewhere in the distance, a baying, clamouring howl set up. He chanced a look at Duo, who was leaning against a chimney, waiting to descend to ground level. He nodded grimly and mouthed, "Nearly there."

Quatre nodded in relief. The journey had taken longer than he had anticipated this far.

* * *

The ladder they had used for their descent came down onto the far side of the building and was fortunately as far away from the military compound as possible. Quatre nodded to himself in satisfaction as he cautiously descended. So far, all Khan and his men had told him was proving true. He landed lightly in an alley, whose only occupants he could hear scuttling away into the darkness, their tails trailing behind them. Wrinkling his noses, he pulled his feet free from the rotting cardboard packaging they had sunk into as Duo moved over to give him more room. He smiled his thanks, but Duo was not looking at him. Instead he was glaring at Khan.

"Any real reason for driftin' west, then?"

Khan was smirking, apparently having recovered his nerve around Duo.

"Don' fancy a trip down memory lane, Maxwell?"

Scowling, Duo flipped the man off as they moved on. As they slipped silently through the shadows, Quatre watched his friend closely. Duo was moving stiffly, tension raging in his back and shoulders. He was in pain, Quatre was certain of it. He was just debating the wisdom of asking Duo the full extent of his injuries when they emerged into what used to be an old square. Some of its original shape had been retained in the road that ran in front of the alleyway in which they lingered and the sad little row of shops and houses that was dwarfed by newer factory and warehouses. Quatre shook his head disapprovingly at the ill-considered planning, but what drew his eye was one of the strangest sights on L2 yet: the arching lintel and frame of what had once been a doorway stood alone with a steel grey backdrop of a warehouse. A few lonely clumps of broken stone and a small plaque dangling by one nail were the only clues to the mystery of the archway…until he looked at Duo. For the first time since Quatre had first left Khan's room, fleeting expression passed through Duo's eyes. Sorrow, loss, longing. Fleeting, mere seconds but long enough for the thrill of realisation to hit Quatre. Maxwell's Church. One of the gang members, the young spotted blond, laughed.

"Maxwell tragedy, wha' a lorra bull. Only still here coz they couldn' be arsed t'get a bulldozer in - ain't worth even that."

Khan grinned in agreement. "Sounds 'bout right, hey, demon?"

To his credit, Duo didn't rise to the bait, maintaining a stony silence as he stared at the arch and the carved gargoyle resting at it's base. Gunfire blared in the distance and the men shifted uneasily. In silent agreement, they left the little square behind them.

* * *

The going was noticeably slower on the ground, and Quatre could feel his spirits flagging once more. L2 was such a miserable place, he decided. It made him think. He had loved his Dickens when he was younger. Still loved the books now, truth be told. His sister continued to root out new titles or editions for them to look at together. He though with a pang of the beautifully illustrated version of _Oliver Twist _she had given him last time he had seen her. He wondered now what he would see next time he read it. Was Victorian London every bit as miserable and desperate as L2? A sudden smile quirked his lips as a thought struck him. He was as out of place here as Oliver Twist had ever been. And if he was Oliver, that certainly made Duo the Artful Dodger. Sid would have to be Fagin and that would make…suddenly the comparison lost its humour. It would be a narrow decision between Khan and Mendez as Sykes. The whole image was wrong. There was no kindly Mr Brownlow to fall back on. The Artful Dodger was never meant to be defeated and so badly hurt, and Oliver was never meant to carry a gun. It was a twisted, nightmarish version seen through…real life. The streets of L2 were far harder than the Dickensian streets that had been the playground of his childhood imagination. Quatre could almost feel that playground being shut off for good.

Quatre was drawn slowly from his musings as the sound of warning klaxons reaching him, drifting over from the military base they had left behind earlier. He glanced at Duo, who mouthed "Group One". It appeared the decoy movement was succeeding. Further evidence of their success appeared in the distance. Feeling relieved that at least this time they weren't looking for him, Quatre flattened himself against the wall as blue light splattered onto the floor. A mixed formation of mobile suits and police transport wagons glided past in the direction of the wailing klaxons and howling.

An unconscious sigh of relief left the men hidden in the shadows.

Khan opened his mouth to speak and was cut off by blaring alarms, screaming into the men's ears as they instinctively flattened themselves back against the wall. Clapping his hands to his ears, Quatre could just make out a booming detached voice rising above the racket.

"Mobile Suit Units 48 and 49 to the docking yard. Police Squadrons 1, 3 and 7 to the docking yard. All other units stand by…."

_Oh no_…Quatre felt the breath leave his body as the implications raced through his mind. Squadron 1? That could mean that…And how did they know? Duo's thoughts had evidently taken the same route as he rounded on Khan, eyes blazing with anger, yelling soundless words. But Khan had for once lost his composure and was looking equally surprised. The two stared at one another as the situation sunk in and reached the same conclusion at the same time. Khan whirled around, shoving and kicking his wolves into action as the pack took off. Quatre raced alongside Duo, heart pounding with adrenaline. They needed to get to the docking yard before the troops arrived. End of story. If they got there first they could gain enough cover to ward them off as they refuelled the Gundams. If they got there second, they were going to get killed. He forced his body to run faster.

**To Be Continued…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning**: violence, gangs, NON-CON SITUATIONS (e.g. rape.) 

**A/N: **Covers eyes in shame This chapter is noticeably later than I promised – I'm sorry!!!

Massive thank you to those who reviewed – it was a true encouragement! Quick replies to those who don't have PM functions – **JC** thanks for the suggestion – a very good point, I will try and do that with this chapter – let me know if it's any better! And the rest of you, I have hopefully replied to – yell at me if not!

On to the story…things are reaching the boil so **let me know what you think – reviews are very well looked after and loved! Please!**

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero **

**Chapter Eleven**

They were pounding down an open street that Quatre vaguely recognised. Khan and Duo had clearly taken a calculated risk between secrecy and speed. Suddenly half the group detached itself, swerving down another road. Quatre slowed and then understanding caught up as Duo caught his elbow and dragged him on. The control tower. Duo's out flung arm illustrated the unheard shout, picking out the high tower looming near by. Duo stumbled, taking them both by surprise as Quatre forcibly retained their balance. As they recovered their previous speed, the 04 pilot stared at his friend. Duo was struggling. His exposed chest was heaving in and out and his drawn face was white. He looked up and the docking bay was in view, blessedly empty of extra troops. The lock down guard still remained but that was expected. They could handle them.

Luck was on their side as they approached the bay. The cacophony of sound was dying away but the detached voice continued to relate its command, drowning out the sounds of running. Furthermore an explosion of gunfire coming from the control tower had inadvertently attracted the guards' attention. As the two pilots halted under the cover of a loading station, Quatre heard a sigh of relief from his fellow teenager. He glanced and saw the cock-sure face of the young gang member guard.

"Ha, they never saw us comin'," he sneered. "An' where's tha' back up meant ta be, huh?"

Quatre simply shook his head at the other's arrogant ignorance. That the back up wasn't here yet didn't mean it wasn't coming. Momentarily debating whether to impart his wisdom, he decided not to waste his breath and crept closer for a clearer view of the bay. The guard was disorganised, scurrying to and fro, uncertain how to react to the sounds of violence still coming from the control tower. Yet even as Quatre watched, an officer was bellowing orders, obviously taking control. Quatre resisted the urge to borrow Duo's blue vocabulary. They needed to move now, to take advantage of the confusions and, he glanced around at the fearful faces of men facing battle, before the gang members lost their bottle.

"We need to move now," he snapped.

"Damn right," Duo said. He had moved from his earlier position of slumping against a rusting crane and was tense and ready once more. He opened his mouth to speak then paused.

"Shit."

He paused again.

"Feel tha'?"

The men paused, feeling the slight thrumming vibrations. Mobile suits. Khan swore foully.

"Let's go!"

Quatre's yell startled the men into action, as the two pilots broke from cover and sprinted forward, ahead of the rest of the gang, who hounded after them. The guards were turning slowly towards them and Quatre could hear the cocksure teenager swearing under his breath even as Duo raised his gun. It spat and he saw a guard jerk and scream as the bullet tore though his leg. The air began to whine as bullets zipped around them. Lungs burning, Quatre dived behind a fortunately empty pile of oil drums, followed swiftly by Duo.

Even over the gunfire and shouts of conflict Quatre could hear Duo's rapid, uneven breaths. The braided boy pulled himself up from the concrete floor to lean against the rounded drum, hands fumbling with his gun. A low groan tore from his lips as he suddenly doubled up, clutching his abdomen. That was enough for Quatre. A fighter had a right to know the status of his teammates. It was something the five of them had decided some time ago after realising the shared potential, particularly amongst the others, to conceal or ignore the extent of their injuries. It hadn't been a large issue until one particular mission, when they were almost compromised. At least, Quatre thought grimly, as he crawled closer, they were able to learn from their mistakes…or at least, they _should_ be learning from their mistakes. If Duo was injured he needed to know. He pressed his fingers tentatively to Duo's side, feeling for a wound or break.

"Fuck!"

Duo flinched violently, shooting out of Quatre's grip, a wild look on his face. Taken by surprise by the reaction, Quatre flinched too. The pair then ducked instinctively as a bullet ricochet off the drum behind which Duo was sitting, sending out a deep clang.

"Fuck!" Duo repeated, glaring at Quatre. "Wha' the hell ya think ya doin', Winner?"

Quatre glared back, the tension an anxiety rising in him, the fright from Duo's unexpected reaction causing his next words to come out sharp.

"You're injured, Duo, and I need to know how badly. The rules are-"

"Fuck th' rules, pal. This really ain't th' place for 'em. Back off, alright?"

Stinging retort delivered, Duo swung around, spitting at a grinning Mendez who was obviously listening in, "An' ya can fuck off an' all too, Mendez."

Bristling, Quatre reached forward.

"No, Duo. I need to know if you're fit to pilot. I need to know what the injury is…"

He trailed off at the look on Duo's face. The 02 pilot reached out, fisted Quatre's shirt and dragged him close.

"Jeez, ya really don' give up, do ya? Fit ta pilot? I don' have a fuckin' choice. I've gotta pilot or I'm dead. Protocol is shit. Don' try an' follow it here. Oh an' tha' injury? Ain't from a fuckin' weapon. Now does tha' answer ya question?" Eyes narrowed, he waited for Quatre's uncertain nod. "Great."

The harsh grip slackened as Quatre staggered backwards. He opened his mouth, feeling sick with stupidity, but shut it again as Duo turned around, picking off two guards in quick succession.

_Foolish, foolish, foolish._

How could he have been so stupid? He looked miserably down and angrily thrust his humanity away again. This wasn't the time. Duo was right and had adequately proven the point to him. The cold brutal speech wasn't to be taken to heart – what does one expect when one talks to the God of Death as he kills? And now wasn't the time to dwell on mistakes either. Move on and don't think.

Moving instinctively in synch with Duo, he took sights on the guards firing at them, waiting for a respite. He fired the same time as Duo. Two more guards collapsed. That appeared to be the last straw. The rest of guards were moving back, dragging their injured with them, into the shadow of the suspect ship next to theirs. Quatre nodded in satisfaction. So far the plan had worked perfectly. Their position had unknowingly forced the guards to leave the path clear to the ship holding the Gundams.

Duo turned from surveying the scene, his hand reaching into a trouser pocket. His grin was wide and deadly.

"Jus'a little distraction. Be ready ta run on three…1…2…3!"

Duo whipped his arm forward as a grenade, pin out, flew through the air. The Wolves took off running as the grenade exploded behind them. Shouts and screams assaulted their ears as they scrambled up onto their ship. Hair still ruffled from the force of the explosion, Quatre and Duo raced across deck, roaring out orders as they went.

"Open the fuel hatches!"

"Khan, get up ta th' Control Bridge an' open up communication wit th' tower."

"Run out three fuel lines and bring them round to the cargo on deck."

"Three?"

Duo's eyes flashed at he glared at the questioning gang member.

"Ya heard wha' he said. Move it. An' stay in th' shadows, unless ya wanna get shot."

When they had been setting out from Earth, Howard had got hold of transport for them. The ship was old-fashioned, outdated and could occasionally be labelled as a hazard. However, as Duo and the Sweepers had pointed out, only those scraping by used ships like these and in a colony like L2, this was far more likely to escape attention than anything Quatre could provide. It was only now that Quatre realised how true that fact was.

The ship was old-fashioned indeed, with the equivalent of a sea ship's open deck. Some cargo was secured on the outside of the ship (at the added risk of falling off, although the innovations of the Gundam pilots combined with the Sweepers had made certain that that event was as unlikely as Duo and Khan becoming best friends). The benefit was that, in situations such as this, the Gundams could be accessed easily and quickly, as Duo and Quatre were proving as they raced down the metal deck to their machines, pulling back the tauplin with practised ease to exposed the fuel hatches. Quatre was careful to reveal no more than this. It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise. For a moment he paused, mind racing through what the next few hours should bring as he waited for the fuel lines. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Duo doing the same.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't carry on into this battle without things right between himself and one he saw as a brother.

"Duo, I'm sorry."

Troubled blue eyes met violet as Duo's mouth twitched into a rueful smile. He rubbed uneasily at the back of his head.

"Yeah, Quat. Me too."

He was still pale, and still in pain, Quatre noticed with some concern. Duo caught the look and spoke firmly, but without the earlier bite.

"I promise ya, 'm fit," he paused, and then gave a small laugh. "Well, fit enough ta let 'Scythe do mosta th' work."

It was a poor joke but Quatre laughed anyway. The laughter died on his lips as that ever present thrumming of approaching mobile suits suddenly upped in volume. He snapped a look over his shoulder and winced at the sight.

"Hey, look who's joined th' pary."

Duo's voice was laced with mock humour as he grabbed his fuel line off the nerveless fingers of a gang member and swiftly fixed it into Deathscythe's side. Quatre mimicked the action with Sandrock. Satisfied the fuel was running through smoothly, Quatre straightened from his task.

"Sandrock's tanks take around 20 minutes to fill," he noted. Duo nodded.

"Same wit 'Scythe. 'Part from tha' are ya ready ta roll?"

"Yes. Providing they don't reach us first."

Together the two of them looked out at the new arrivals. Two whole Mobile Suit Corps of Leos were spreading out across the docking bay, sealing off every exit. Meanwhile, dwarfed by the intimidating war machines, troops of soldiers and riot police were swarming around.

"Hey! Bakas!"

Quatre looked around at Duo's exclamation and instantly spotted the problem. A bunch of the younger gang members, he was somehow unsurprised to see the cocky guard amongst them, were up on the edge of the deck, howling derisively down at the dockyard guards who had retreated back behind the other ships. They were egging each other on, playing a twisted version of roulette, apparently ignorant of the implication of the yard full of military and police presence. They ignored Duo's warning shout completely.

"Stupid bunch of twats," Duo muttered. "Sheesh, ya'd think we're up on Sixth Street sprayin' some wall."

"Shouldn't we try and stop them?" Quatre asked as the irritated guards began sending shots in the direction of the jeering Wolves.

"Sure," Duo rolled his eyes. "Go right ahead. Look, man. If they're thick enough not ta see th' danger then Khan's gonna be real glad not ta have such clowns in his gang. C'mon, lets get up ta tha' bridge."

As they moved across the deck to the hatch leading to the command bridge, Quatre looked around, assessing their numbers. Of the thirty men they had begun with, three lay dead on the tarmac below. In the shadows, older, more savvy wolves lurked, looking with distain at the reckless behaviour of their younger counterparts. Siege mentalities developed quickly, and already men had hauled crates forward to the edge of the ship, creating barriers and shooting points to guard them from the police and OZ below.

Up on the command bridge, Khan was surveying the view while Mendez paced the room in agitation. As Duo entered, he spun around.

"Look at this mother-fuckin' mess!"

Duo sneered back at him, hand still cradling his gun.

"Yeah, ain't so fun when ya 'gainst big boys an' not liddle kids, Mendez."

Dismissing him, Duo walked on past towards Khan. Quatre felt less inclined to treat the man so casually. He felt as unpredictable as a tiger. There was a madness, an unpleasantness, in the man's mind that he could not ignore.

"Got the fuel goin'?" Khan inquired without turning his head.

"Yup," Duo replied, running his eye over the control panel. "Jeez, Khan, wha' th' hell have ya bin doin'? Get these damn communication channels open!"

Quatre watched in mild surprise as Khan flushed, watching Duo reach out and deftly flick switches, tuning into the Control Tower, with an ugly look on his face. There was a flurry pf exchange as Duo made contact with the Control Tower and swapped status, before he paused and looked at Khan, a wicked smile on his face.

"Someone not know how ta use communication channels?" Duo laughed mockingly as he reached out and opened another channel. Khan mumbled an excuse for his weakness, but the two Gundam pilots weren't listening. The next stage of their plan was about to come into play. The incoming light flashed red and Quatre held his breath.

"Attention _Broadmarsh_…Attention _Broadmarsh_…You are surrounded…I repeat, you are surrounded…All exits have been covered…Lay down your arms and surrender…"

**To Be Continued…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: violence, gangs, NON-CON SITUATIONS (e.g. rape.)**

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero **

**Chapter Twelve**

Quatre stood at the deck, looking out over the deck. Out there, just out of range, he could make out a huddle of officers around what had to be a transmitter. They were in a standoff. He watched Duo reach for the transmitter and then glanced at his watch. If they were to reach the base before the others engaged they had only thirty minutes left to leave. He felt his stomach sink. They still had fifteen minutes of fuelling and they had to wait for the men at the control tower to reopen launch channels. Duo had to handle this well. As long as the police and OZ thought that the men on the ship might surrender they would with hold their fire…or at least, that is what would happen in most scenarios. On L2, Quatre could no longer be sure.

Duo's voice, despite the tension on his face, came out cheery.

"Come out? No way in hell, man. I ain't blind. I can see those big dollies ya got out there."

There was a brief crackle and Quatre could imagine the nervous buzz amongst the men as contact was made.

"Providing you lay down your arms and come out, we promise you will not be harmed."

Duo raised an eyebrow.

"Wha' th'? Wha' colony do ya live on coz it sure ain't here. This is L2, dude! Ya promises don' count for shit. Nu uh. Tell ya wha', here's a plan. Why don' ya'll back off, point those guns somewhere else, an' then we'll talk."

There was a brief pause.

"But then you could shoot us."

Despite the situation, both Duo and Quatre grinned. This guy was quite good.

"Well done, Einstein. Now ya see tha's th' problem," Duo drawled. "Ya don' trust me an' I sure don' trust ya."

Quatre checked his watch. Duo could keep this going for hours if need be. There was another pause.

"I see that is a bit of a problem."

Duo couldn't help a small chuckle.

"Ya bet ya ass it is."

"I'd really rather not," came the dry response. There was a small pause. "So, if you won't come out for now, can you at least let us know a little about the situation? We really don't want anyone to be hurt."

Duo snorted sardonically, and it was the taint of his short time on L2 that made Quatre mentally agree with him.

"Ya makin' this sound like a bullyin' incident at school man."

"How many of you are there?"

"A good few," Duo replied vaguely. "Look, sweet talkin' ain't gonna work. Still got no reason ta trust ya."

"You've got my word."

"Which mean's fuck-all ta me. C'mon, ya like some random squaddie – bet ya boss ain't pleased tha' ya promised tha' ta sweet scum."

"Actually, I am the boss." The voice sounded amused. Duo froze and Khan's eyes gleamed.

"Wha'?"

"Chief of Police Mercer here."

"Shit."

For a moment, Duo closed his eyes, letting his head slump forward to rest against the glass. Quatre winced at the sick sensation of Duo's exhaustion and defeat mixing with Khan's victory and his own horror. Khan had known. Known he would be here, ever since he had heard the sirens start.

"Now that you have my name, can I have yours?"

Khan gave a firm nod.

"Duo Maxwell."

Quatre could almost hear the typing of keyboards dragging up all they had on Duo.

"Maxwell as in Maxwell Church?"

Duo's tone was inescapably bitter.

"Yeah."

"That tragedy should never have happened. Let's try not to have another one today."

Quatre could see the pain in Duo's eyes as he replied, "Hey, I don' wanna bullet in my ass anymore than ya do."

Mercer laughed.

Quatre had been so focused on Duo and the conversation in front of him that he was taken utterly by surprise as the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against his temple. He stiffened instantly at the click of the safety latch and felt the rapid, excited breathing of Mendez on the back of his neck. Duo's head snapped round as he took in the situation in seconds. His features tightened in distain even as the communication link with the tower beeped. The tower was close to lifting the blockage.

"Why are you here, Duo?"

"It's nuffin' personal," Duo's voice was suddenly hoarse. "Just sometimes thin' gotta be done."

"Look, why don't you come out and talk about it?"

"We're talking now," Duo responded, ignoring Khan's warning glare.

"I mean face to face. Promise your people will hold your fire and mine will do the same. I'll meet you in person at the halfway point. No arms on either side and then we can negotiate."

"Deal."

"Five minutes."

Cutting the connection, Duo turned, his face twisted in disgust.

"Jeez, Khan. Thought ya knew me better than tha'. Get outside. An' if he's hurt in anyway, there's no way ya getting' out of this situation alive."

* * *

Quatre was finding it impossible to breathe. His heart was hammering and pounding in protest against his ribs as he watched Duo step up to the side of the ship. Duo's weapons were resting in Quatre's hands, apart from one small silver gun concealed in his right boot.

"You should trust him more, you know. He never breaks his promises," he muttered to Khan. The man ignored him, eyes fixed on Duo, fingers lightly tracing the scar running from his ear down his neck. The silence was oppressive as Duo walked steadily down a gangway towards a figure in uniform. Even the young Wolves had halted their whistling. The only sound was the faint rumble of gunfire and the screams of far off sirens from the other side of the colony.

* * *

The possibility that he was a dead man walking crossed Duo's mind as he stepped onto the stained concrete and an irrepressible grin spread across his face. How he was going to get out of this was beyond him, and he was quite sure that was what Khan wanted. It would suck to fail at this moment. He halted at a discarded oil drum lying, rusting, on its side and stared across at the man he was meant to kill.

"Man, wha' is someone like ya doin' on L2?"

_Shit! _He hadn't meant to say that. _Sleep depravation, _he thought ruefully. It was true though. Mercer smiled.

"Duo Maxwell?"

Duo nodded, letting his eyes drifted over the man's body armour, looking for a particular spot.

"Th' one an' only."

He glanced at his watch. _Three minutes_. He could do this.

"Have you got anyone hurt up there?"

Duo shrugged, eyeing the man with apparent wariness.

"Dozen or so. Few casualties."

Mercer frowned in concern.

"Do they need medical attention?"

Jeez, was this guy for real? Duo rolled his eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock."

The man sighed.

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Well now, seein' as we were here first, I'd guess tha's our business."

Mercer's eyebrows rose. Duo chuckled inwardly. This guy had the patience of a saint.

"If you won't tell me, perhaps I can guess. You're next to the ship which was caught gun running two days ago, your timing is extremely fortunately placed with two other insurgencies, my men tell me that the gang leader of the Wolves, a man named Khan, is on your ship. From the little I can find out about you, Duo, I can perhaps understand why you're here. What happened to Maxwell Church was a tragedy and I think your time in jail was unfair. Is this what it's all about?"

_Two minutes._

Apparently this guy was also very good at his job. Duo snorted.

"Not bad. Guess it is, in a roundabout way. Looks like we got th' short straw gettin' stuck wit ya, didn' we."

"Look, Duo. It may seem like the short straw but this can work to your advantage. I'm actually a pretty decent guy. And I'm not surprised things kicked off tonight, the colony has been tense. But let's try and work something out."

God, this was so funny it was tragic. The strangeness of meeting a decent person was making his head spin. He was so tired. Duo heard laughter that was way too bitter coming out his mouth.

"Fuck, this place don' deserve ya an' all ya tryin' ta do. Why ya workin' on this shit-hole?" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the ship. "They ain't never gonna lissen ta ya. Ya got tha'? They don' care 'bout this place, only 'bout 'emselves. It ain't neva gonna stop, so why try? Man, if ya got some answers on how ta solve this place then I'd love ta hear them."

He watched Mercer's face change throughout his unexpected rant: surprise, humour, confusion, indecision, sadness, anger and resolve. Damn, the man was a bloody emotional chameleon. He could give Quatre a run for his money. At that moment, Duo hated Khan more than anything else in the world. Mercer cleared his throat.

_One minute._

"There are more people on L2 than crime lords and gangs. What about them? Don't they deserve my effort and protection? If someone doesn't try then no-one will. But trying like this isn't going to help anything…"

Duo watched the man talk, but he couldn't listen to anymore. All he could think was running through his head…_I'm so fuckin' sorry…_it was one of those damn decision moments, were if he pretended he might actually feel like he had a choice. Do what most human beings would call the right thing and not kill Mercer. Save the possible future of L2, which would be destroyed in the coming war. Or kill the man to save the war effort and turn to what seemed like an impossible victory anyway. No choice. The shame was that if Mercer was actually live during the impossible peace he might have actually had the motive, connections and balls to make a difference. But with ten seconds to go, that wasn't going to happen.

He locked eyes with the police officer.

"I'm so sorry."

_Times up._

A clanking started far far above them as a cry of alarm went up from the police and army. The deep black of space, lit be pinprick stars and the large dead moon, was being gradually revealed as the inner shell was peeled back as the control tower lifted the lockdown. Warning sirens began blaring for launch and instinctively men ducked for cover. That moment of distraction was all Duo needed. His gun was in his hand and firing toward his chosen spot even as Mercer's head was turning back from the sky in confusion.

He didn't wait to see the body fall. He had already fled; braid whipping behind him, as above and below him men open fired, catching him in a deadly crossfire.

* * *

How he did not die, Quatre was never able to understand. He watched his friend run, twisting and turning, unfaltering as bullets slammed down around him, clipping his arms and sides. Then Quatre had more immediate problems to deal with. The moment Duo reached the shadow of the ship, Khan looked at Mendez and nodded imperceptibly, ordering his death. Mendez was dragging him backwards towards the Gundams, chuckling in delight.

"Bin awhile since I've had a pretty boy ta play wit."

Disgust, horror and fury rose in Quatre as he began to struggle violently. Even beneath layers of deception and exploitation, Quatre had hoped Khan would eventually keep his word, but he now saw what Duo meant. There was nothing but corruption and cruelty in Khan. He felt sick, and with increasing panic, he was realising that he could not get free. Mendez was huge, towering over Quatre, and more than his match in strength. From his position, he couldn't even exploit the shot wound Duo had given him. Mendez had dragged him over the far side of Sandrock and pinned him again the Gundam's leg. Strong fingers grasped his jaw, forcing his head up. Suddenly, a hail of lead was ripping around them, ricocheting off the gundaniam hidden behind its covering. OZ and the police had circulated around the ship. The struggle forgotten, both dived for cover and Quatre got himself free. Gasping, he started to crawl away, heading back towards the other side. A hand grasped his ankle and he looked back to see Mendez snarling at him. Lashing out with his free foot, he scrambled out of reach as he struck Mendez's injured shoulder and tore off around the corner.

He was just in time to see Duo heaving himself off the deck, having evidently flung himself onboard. Khan was at his side, either helping or forcing the teenager up, one hand clamped around a bloody arm. The docking bay had descended into chaos as gang and police open fired. Quatre could hear a warning roar as the Leos came to life and knew they didn't have long. He struggled over to Duo and could see the fight pumping through his friend. Well-hidden fear and desperation were brought to the surface as he fought Khan's grip, mirroring unknown Quatre's actions mere moments earlier. Suddenly he had the silver gun to Khan's head, the one that had killed the chief of police who was lying dead on the bay below, and he pulled the trigger.

For a moment, the two stood there, frozen, eye-to-eye.

The gun had not fired. The cartridge was empty.

Duo let out a yell of frustration and lashed out, sending Khan sprawling. He flung the gun over the side of the ship, as Quatre skidded to his side, and grasped the weapons the other pilot offered. Quatre glanced down at his watch. They had missed the half hour deadline.

"Come on!"

Their path back to the hulking figures of their hidden Gundams was hindered as they flung themselves down to avoid fire on all sides. Crawling along the deck, Quatre saw Duo pause briefly by a corpse. As he passed he glanced down at the face. The young blond guard stared back, wide-eyed in death. Destination reached, they scaled the sides, ripping back the tauplin that barred access to the cockpits. Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre saw Duo waving to him. Frowning Quatre waved back, then let out a cry of shock and pain as he felt a terrific wrench to his leg. Crashing back down to deck, he landed badly and stared up into a twisted, bloody face.

"Where ya goin', blondie?"

Mendez.

**To Be Continued…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Warning:** violence, gangs, references to Non-Con Situations

**A/N: **Ok, I'm well aware that this is a woefully short chapter (only 3 pages long!) but I thought/was told it would be mean to leave you all with the cliff hanger of the last chapter – so here you go, Happy Christmas! Oh and sorry for lack of Author Note on the last chapter, not sure why you didn't get one – possibly lack of time, it's all a bit hazy…Thank you to all my lovely reviewers and readers. I hope you enjoy this even if it is a bit short!

Also to those who were disappointed by this story – many apologies. I'm aware that my narrator focus flickers between Quatre and Duo although it would have originally seemed that Quatre would have been the sole perspective. That is what I intendes, but the story line demanded Duo's view points as well, although I've tried to keep it to a minimum. Neither character was ever intended to the sole 'central character'. In my head, it's a story about situation were one character who is forced by circumstance to be largely an observer, despite the fact that he obviously has the ability to be more. Hmm. Might do the flip side to this story if people would like that? Duo and Quatre in a shirt and tie, anyone:-)

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero **

**Chapter Thirteen**

The steel deck was cold and spot were dancing before Quatre's eyes as Mendez's hands tightened on his throat. His gun had spun off the right, dislodged by his violent landing. Reaching for it was futile and survival kicked in. He was clawing at the man's shoulder and face, fingers seeking the bullet wound and digging in deep. He could feel Mendez's breath washing over his face as black began to eat at the edges of his vision.

Mendez screamed and abruptly released him. Quatre lay on the deck; gasping and staring dazedly up at a furious Duo swinging a thrumming chain round and round his head. Mendez was groaning on the floor, struggling to rise. The air whistled through the metal links as Duo brought the chain down with punishing force across Mendez's back. Mendez screamed again. Quatre's head was splitting as the blood and air rushed back in. The chain came down again, cracking across the deck. Mendez screamed and Quatre winced as the sound cut above the gunfire like a knife. He couldn't even hear Duo although the 02 pilot was snarling silent words down at the writhing man.

Thoughts began to process sluggishly. He should pull Duo away, they didn't have time for this and Duo needed to stop that hatred, that terrible vengeance. But Duo had already stopped and was staring down at Mendez, chest heaving with exertion. The bloodied chain was dangling in his hand.

Heartened, Quatre struggled upright. A sudden boom rent the air as the ship shuddered under the impact of the Leos' fire and nearly knocked Quatre down again. He scrambled to retrieve his gun. Apparently shaken from his anger, Duo looked over, concern in his face.

"Ya ok?" he yelled over the noise. Quatre nodded ruefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mendez stirring.

"We've got to get out of here," he yelled back.

"I need a gun."

Quatre looked sharply at Duo. The harness of the pilot seat in a Gundams was too tight to allow the pilots to wear guns while piloting, so they stored their weapons in the cockpit. Duo must have already stored his weapons before Quatre was attacked. That would explain why he used a chain (alongside the added bonus of keeping his distance from a man with more than twice his strength). But why did Duo want a gun now?

There was murder in Duo's eyes as he looked at him. Duo was one of the most loyal people Quatre knew. No-one but no-one messed with his friends. He could remember his hissed warning to Roderigio. _Don' mess wit me an' mine_

There was some history between Mendez and Duo. Of that much he was aware. They hated each other and Quatre was sure that Duo would happily kill the man given the opportunity. That he had attacked Quatre just made the man's death certain. But Quatre was battling with a rage of his own.

"Q, c'mon. We gotta go. Just gimme a gun an' I'll make it real quick."

But that wasn't the problem. Duo was a loyal friend. He would die to protect his friends. He would put himself on the line every time. No questions asked. Quatre should know, he had been watching Duo do it ever since they came to L2. He couldn't know for certain, but he was sure that somewhere along the line it was partly for Quatre's own protection that Duo was forced into Khan's bed. But who was there to look after Duo?

"C'mon," impatience was creeping into Duo's hoarse voice. "Look, man, don' sweat it. He's a fuckin' dog. I told him an' Khan I'd shoot 'em like dogs if they came near me or ya. Can' shoot Khan, but I'll damn well shoot him for wha' he did ta ya."

No. He didn't want Duo to have to kill for him. He somewhat futilely didn't want Duo to have to kill at all, but that was foolish to the extreme. Duo was a killer, a fighter. Just like him. But there was something in Duo's eyes, a pain that Quatre did not want to contribute to.

His musings were costing precious time. Mendez was stirring. Duo had been standing, arms akimbo, waiting for his response but with growing impatience. Crouching down, he reached out for Quatre's gun. A flash of silver was the only warning they got.

Mendez's knife was out and ripping into Duo's leg and Quatre's gun, with that half a carton of unused ammunition, fired twice from Quatre's hand.

In a sudden lull of firing, Quatre could hear Duo's and his harsh breathing as they stared down at the dead man, shot through neck and heart.

"He's dead," Duo murmured. He turned to his friend, hands automatically checking the flow of blood from where Mendez's knife had pierce the fleshy part of his thigh. Quatre pulled off his belt, fastening it as a tourniquet. "I've wan'ed tha' since I was nine."

Quatre bit his lip. He'd never seen Duo like this. He could feel the other trembling slightly and all he could do was squeeze his shoulder gently. At the pressure, Duo seemed to wake up.

"We need to go, Duo. We're out of time here."

To be back in Sandrock's cockpit was an overwhelming relief. The takeoff felt like a dream. Sealed off from the noise and chaos, safe and secure. Back on familiar territory, and despite all they had to get through (it was depressing to think that they hadn't even started the mission they had come out here to do), it felt almost relaxing.

He knew the sight Sandrock and Deathscythe must make rising up from the deck, ripping away the concealing drapes. He could imagine the panic and fear that would be exploding in the men below, irreverent of their sides. He could understand the hesitation and dread in the Leos' pilots as they saw enemies they could not defeat. But he did not feel it. And he was glad.

He was too numb, too tired, too exhausted by all he had witnessed and done on L2, it was a blessed relief to be doing something he understood and was good at…even if it was death and destruction. But there was one thing he wished he could see, with surprising vindictiveness. He wished he could have seen Khan's face as he realised what the two boys were. He pondered that for a moment as he powered up his guns. Actually, he decided as he brought up his sights, he never wanted to see that man's face again. Ever.

He saw Deathsycthe charge forward, the scythe swinging round to wreak death amongst the Leos. He manoeuvred Sandrock forward, feeling the Gundam respond to his commands with the familiar movements and sounds that were strangely comforting. Down on the ground below, men hurtled this way and that in panic and confusion as the Leos moved to engage the two Gundams.

Quatre could see a field ambulance where Mercer had fallen but the dead officer was not his concern. It was the Wolves fleeing the ship that were. He moved towards them. Khan could prove false ten times over but he would not. While Duo held off the oncoming Leos, Quatre stood guard between the Wolves and their pursuers, ensuing through any means necessary that the Wolves got away.

The private com link beeped. He flicked it on.

"How long does it take ta leave a fuckin' port?" Duo complained.

Quatre scan his surveillance views carefully. He could see the last man sprinting down the alley. Fleetingly, the fate of the Control Tower team crossed his mind. Khan hadn't seemed concerned that they had no protection on leaving. The callous selfishness of the crime lord no longer surprised him, yet he felt as if he owed those men a greater debt than any he owed Khan.

"They're all gone."

"Alright. Space-side here we come!"

They shook themselves free of any restraints and quickly prepared for launch. Launching from a colony was dramatically easier than from Earth on account of the lack of gravitational forces, but that didn't make it any less dangerous. The rapid safety checks he was conducting made his skin crawl and he wished futilely he had time to get into a spacesuit. Unfortunately that would have to wait until they were on the move properly. He could only pray that all would be well.

Then they were moving, powering upwards, and the port was shrinking behind them as they exited L2. They burst out into the deep black quiet of space and saw the grey curving sphere of the colony stretching away before them.

They had done it.

And they were late.

Quatre began pulling up the stats. It was not looking good.

Heart sinking, Quatre flicked the com on, looking for a visual.

"02?"

"Yeah?"

Duo's face flickered up. He wasn't looking at the screen but was busy configuring routes, probably mimicking Quatre's earlier actions.

"We're not going to make the rendezvous time," Quatre stated bluntly.

"We gotta try though. Got th' routes in?"

"Yes. Hold on."

There was silence as they compared destinations.

"Right," Quatre made a few final adjustments. "Autopilot for three hours with thirty minutes watches?"

Duo nodded agreement. The time for rest, however brief, was a welcome prospect. Quatre took first watch.

"02," he spoke just as Duo was about to cut the link. Duo looked up questioningly. "Make sure you put your suit on."

Duo gave a tired laugh. "Rodger that, mama 04. See you in thirty."

The screen went blank and Quatre, after wriggling into his own suit, turned on the music. The soothing classical melodies washed over him as he settled back, keeping careful eye on the systems and reports. They had overcome an impossible obstacle and got off L2, but if they didn't get to the base in time it would have been all for nothing. Unfortunately they had done all they could for now. The Gundams could go no faster, the time of action had ended for a brief period and all Quatre could do was to resign himself to wait. He would need all his wits and reflexes at the base. They all would.

**To Be Continued…**

**Finally off L2, and in a slightly more peaceful place for me to leave you and them in for Christmas! Have a peaceful Christmas and see you in the New Year.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning**: Bad language, reference to violence, gangs, criminality and rape.

**A/N: **Well, hello. Much later than ever intended but then sadly I do prioritise the real world over the imaginary – most of the time :). Enjoy the chapter, I hope you remember the storyline – either way, drop me a review and say 'Hi'. Still got more to say about this baby so encouragement is always good.

A big thank you to** Chibi Rose Angel **for acting as honorary beta-reader – a great and very useful job! Cheers!

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero **

**Chapter Fourteen**

Quatre awoke to the quiet, glowing darkness of his cockpit and the soft incessant beeping of the alarm he had set. They were an hour and half away from their destination and Quatre had slept restlessly while Duo had kept watch. Now he began to set system checks, methodically moving through Sandrock's stats, ensuring his readiness for the battle. He worked steadily, his stomach tightening as he thought of what was ahead, of his comrades already engaged in battle without the support they needed. He thought of the potential ramifications of this mission. The base needed to be completely destroyed and OZ's monitoring systems would be set back years to their advantage. Even now the hampering effects were evident. He knew Duo must be somewhere nearby him, yet they maintained complete silence. Any communication would be picked up and tracked hence why they refrained from contacting the others. He reached out and flicked the gundam into stealth mode.

He could feel his shoulders tensing and shrugged them to relax, rolling his head from side to side. The long wait stretched before him.

Slowly but surely the site of the battle became apparent. A tiny glimmer, no more than an out of place star, became flashes in the pan, flaring and disappearing, blink-and-you've-missed-them types. These grew in size, intensity and number until it painted a ferocious battle, taking place in the most dangerous and inhospitable setting known to man. Even as he watched, something exploded with a blinding flash and he turned his face away. One of the most lethal elements of space battle was the visual disturbance from the imprints of bright explosions against dark space. Fortunately, Trowa had developed a shield not unlike that of sunglasses to minimize the effect. Quatre hastily put it into action.

As they drew closer, Quatre could make out the desperate situation more clearly. The base was extraordinarily well defended, with numbers beyond their reckoning. Evidently, the commanders had recognized it as a high target priority. The defense was a mix of manual mobile suits and electronic dolls. He could make out Wing, Heavyarms and Shelong fighting with reckless ferocity, unable to get close to their targets. Wing and Shelong fought side by side, as Wing struggled to get an open shot at the base with its laser cannon. Heavyarms had been cut off. Quatre could feel rather than hear the vibrations of its double guns as Trowa attempted to cut his way back to his friends. They had arrived in the nick of time, as Sid might have said. The damage on the vast machines of war was clear, even to the physical eye, and the occasional slow reaction betrayed the oncoming exhaustion of their pilots.

They were nearly there.

He stabbed the COM button, bringing up a visual. There was no need for secrecy this close. Duo's face flashed up immediately, jaw set and eyes blazing. Quatre wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Stealth mode off?"

"Gotchaya."

"Ready to give them hell?"

Duo cast him a surprised look, and then winked in humorous appreciation.

"Shinnigami's comin'."

The visual shut off as Deathscythe appeared just to Sandrock's left. The lethal scythe powered up as Quatre prepared to bring his own curved blades into the fray. Duo whistled appreciatively and Quatre just had time to open the COM links to the other three pilots before he leapt forward into action.

They immediately split, Quatre to Heero and Wufei, slicing cleanly through two dolls harassing Shelong's flank, and Duo to Trowa's side. It was a vicious, rolling dogfight, a mêlée of blurred lines of fire, foes from all sides and unexpected blows from behind. Quatre fought like a fury, the only way he could focus through a numbing tiredness that the few hours of snatched sleep had not lessened. He was so focused on his task that he hardly noticed that Heavyarms and Deathscythe had managed to battle their way over. He even came close to missing Heero's terse orders across the COM.

"All Gundams clear a path to the base. I need a clear shot."

"Roger that," came the automatic reply from the four pilots.

It was easier said than done. (The enemy's ranks had thinned since their arrival but the remaining suits and dolls were proving to be quite resistant. Also, the base's manual defenses were coming into play. Quatre heard Duo swear in surprise as Deathscythe shuddered under fire from the base and then yelled out loud himself as Sandrock stumbled and dropped in height. He forcefully regained even keel and rocketed upwards, smashing into a mobile doll directly above him. The explosion momentarily engulfed him, but he still heard Wufei yelling urgently.

"01, now! Take it now!"

The obstruction cleared from Quatre's view and he could see the gap. Wing's rifle was out and powering up as the others held the opposition off for him. The destructive jet of light sped out and impaled the base. The resounding force of the explosion threw them backwards but one thing was now very certain.

The mission had been completely successfully.

When the chaos cleared, the opposition was gone, having fled back to their bases to report. The Stigartrus base was hanging, drifting, half-destroyed.

"01 speaking. 02, 03, 04 and myself move in to complete base destruction. 05, ensure there are no more hostile forces in the region."

As Quatre moved forward to carry out his orders, his stomach twisted uneasily. There had been no rejoicing at the destruction of the base, at the completion of a major victory. Duo and Quatre had received no relieved welcome as they had charged to the rescue. There was no light-hearted, post-battle chatter now and the visual COM links remained firmly off. They had been almost fatally late – and a stony silence now greeted them. There was no room for error in war. De-briefing would be harsh when they got back to the Peacemillion. Quatre got to work on the destruction of the base, trying to forget the clenching in his stomach.

It was only in the cold bright light of the Peacemillion hanger that Quatre could see how terrifyingly close to defeat they had come. Sandrock had docked first and he was able to watch Shelong, Wing and Heavyarms all but limp in. Sandrock had sustained some pretty nasty hits but they were mere scratches compared to the others. Quatre sighed as he watched Deathscythe make an unusually clumsy landing. All around, the Sweepers and allies were cheering at the victory, but Quatre worried at the price. It was time to go down and face the inevitable music.

As he dropped to the deck, Quatre felt exhaustion wash over him as the adrenaline ran out and the L2 experience caught up with him. He ached deeply all over, his throat hurt abominably and his head was still pounding. A severe gravel burn all down his left side was making itself known. He was the first down and leant tiredly against his Gundam's foot as he waited, ignoring in his dazed state, the Sweeper crew talking excitedly as they moved to assess the state of the Gundams and congratulate the pilots. Wufei was already on the ground and making his way directly towards Quatre, Heero and Trowa hot on his heels. Quatre watched the black Gundam furthest away with mounting anxiety as Duo failed to emerge. He looked back down into Wufei's dark eyes, flashing with anger and stress.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

* * *

It was only after he landed that Duo realised he was gasping raggedly in a mixture of pain and adrenaline. He released his vice-like grip on the controls and let his head fall back against the seat. One determined effort to slow his breathing down, and only after his heartbeat had quietened, did he (originally you had his and not he) begin to explore the damage. Carefully, he released the harnesses and pushed his hand between his body and the bottom of his seat. Pulling it away, he stared at it in the faint light of the cockpit. It was red with blood. He choked back the hysterical sob that rose in his throat as humiliation flashed through his mind and glanced at his screen. His four comrades were staring up at his Gundam. Three of them looked furious. Shit.

* * *

Quatre looked on anxiously as Duo finally emerged, taking a cable down. He risked a glance at the others.

"Please-"

"Quiet," Heero cut him off abruptly, in much the same way he had dealt with Wufei earlier.

"We will debrief away from the hanger."

Quatre frowned at the cold tone as his own frayed temper flared. He was not used to being treated like this. Duo had reached the ground but paused by the cable, hands twisted around it as he watched the others warily. Quatre could see L2 still bubbling away in him. Heero jerked his head in the direction of the exit to the main ship in clear order and Duo began to walk slowly towards them. Satisfied, the others turned away to follow Heero as Quatre waited with a tired smile for his friend.

Quatre could feel Duo trembling as they walked together, a bundle of exhausted tension stretched to the breaking point. He looked down at his own shaking hands. The walk to the exit was a long one. He didn't quite dare to look at Duo. Not just yet. He regretted his choice when they finally reached the other pilot and stepped into a quiet corridor, stretching away to the living quarters. The others set off without a word as Duo stretched out a hand to rest against the doorframe.

"Kind of ya ta wait," the L2 pilot sneered. Quatre winced and hurried to speak, but Heero spoke first.

"We have had enough delays, Maxwell." Anger faintly colored the Perfect Soldier's cool voice as he spoke without turning. Duo raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

"If'sat's th' best damn hello we're gonna get, then ya can wait a bit longer."

Internally, Quatre sighed. Duo had spent two days baiting people to the best of his ability, and three Gundam pilots fresh from battle didn't need much riling. He was right. Wufei and Heero stopped dead in their tracks, rounding on the America. They looked almost as strained as Quatre felt. But not quite.

"02, debrief now," Heero's voice was laced with threat.

Duo bit back like a cornered animal. "Fuck off, Yuy. It can wait an hour."

"Not after a mission like that, it can't," said Wufei, his tone tight and disapproving. Quatre saw Duo clench his fists and stepped in.

"Can it please wait? The mission was successful after all."

"Only just!"

He could feel the tension rising in the corridor where they had halted, see it in his comrade's eyes, feel it in himself. He wanted to rest, wanted sometime to pull himself together, wanted Duo to have space, to have care…the L2 pilot's defenses were still in place, precariously so.

"Wha' ya tryin' ta say, Wuffers? An' cut ta th' chase," Duo was pale, his features harsh and uncaring, defiance still glittering. Wufei read the emotion the wrong way.

"You screwed up, Maxwell. You and Winner here. And I want to know why. Where the hell were you?" The accusations were spat out. It was the exhaustion talking, Quatre thought wearily, the tension, the constant pressure of this wretched war. _We're only sixteen._

"Turned up, didn't we? Take a look around, dumbass, th' mission happened, no one's dead but some bastard ozzies."

"That's not the point," Heero's voice, stern and uncompromising. "A few minutes later and it would have been over."

"Ya think we don' know tha'? Just as well we hurried then, ain't it? 'M sorry 'm not fucking perfect, Heero!"

"They were simple ord-"

"Stop it. That's enough."

Trowa's voice was surprisingly firm. He pushed open the nearest door, leading into a small common room. "In."

Heero took a steadying breath and nodded, leading the way. They filed in, one by one, plonking themselves down at the plastic table. Quatre's heart struggled painfully as Duo entered cautiously, remaining near the door, flushes of anger still painted on his cheeks. He dithered.

"Sit down." Heero's curt order made the boy flinch and the other pilots looked at each other in surprise, and Quatre saw them look, really look, at the pair, saw the struggling and difficult transition from seeing 02 and 04 as Duo and Quatre, friends not soldiers.

It was a hard process to leap from one track to another, the warring emotions and calls of a fighter with comrades. Yet none of the Gundam pilots were unkind and their faces were suddenly gentler as Duo lowered himself uneasily into a chair and silence descended. Quatre looked carefully at Heero, Trowa and Wufei, noting the lines of stress, bags of sleeplessness and wear on their faces. Wufei spoke first, words carefully chosen and directed to his hands splayed deliberately on the table.

"That was unprofessional and ill-disciplined of us all. May we start the debrief again, beginning with Maxwell and Winner's accounts?"

Quatre glanced at Duo, who nodded wearily. He took a breath and stepped into the breach.

"Let us first then start with our apologies. We were late, however this was not, and I repeat this, _not _on account of any unprofessional behavior on our part." He paused, taking in the expressions of the other pilots. Pleased to find traces of guilt and acceptance there, he continued. "We received the mission briefs and were on schedule when we took a pre-planned refuel stop at L2…" He paused again, looking involuntarily towards Duo, his earlier assurance gone, torn between protecting Duo and giving a full explanation. Duo picked up the narrative.

"Th' ship next ta us musta had a hell of a lota contraband crap on her, coz next thin' we know, th' boys in blue are swarmin' everywhere an' we end up havin' ta do a runner. L2 ended up in a mother of a lockdown."

Wufei nodded. "We did hear about that." Quatre could tell Duo barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

"So we were kinda stuck. L2 lockdowns are hardcore an' we were wanted. We couldn't sit it out, 'cause we had ta get ta ya on time, so I ran up some favours wid some old friends an' we managed a break out, got back on th' road an' here we are."

It sounded so simple and neat when Duo said it. Factual and logical. Bish bash bosh. The others exchanged glances.

"This took you several days?" Heero inquired, his voice was carefully expressionless. Duo looked up but Quatre beat him to it.

"You have no idea," he said coldly. "How hard Duo worked to get us off L2 in time. We are talking about a full scale military and city lockdown. The port was completely shut off, there was no space communication, OZ and the police were patrolling constantly, fully armed and manning Leos. It's logistically amazing we actually even managed to get off, let alone reach you in time."

They were staring at him in surprise. Little Quatre showing his steel. _Serves them right, _he thought tiredly. The silence extended as the pilots took in the new information. They began to question them carefully, timing, distance, logistics. No accusations, simple business. He could deal with that, leaving Duo to sit in silence, chewing on a bruised lip and nodding. Eventually the questions trickled into silence.

Wufei looked up from his tabletop reflections, his eyes raking the pair keenly.

"There is something you are not saying.'

Quatre gazed back, his heart jumping.

"What are you implying?"

But Wufei didn't rise this time. He shook his head, raising his hands placatingly. "Nothing against your honour, but you look exhausted and Maxwell looks injured…and you have not told us what this deal contained."

"You also have not mentioned the chief of police, Mercer."

Heero's sudden intersection caused Duo to jolt in shock, breaking his silence.

"Where ya hear tha'?" he demanded.

Heero looked at his friend, surprise playing across his face. "Howard told me down on the docking floor. Arrest details are circulating for someone with your name and description."

Quatre chanced a glance at Duo. He was white to the lips.

"Duo?"

He didn't respond, Quatre could practically feel him beginning to crumble, and he could feel himself beginning to fray. He tried once more to protect his friend.

"Do you really need this information, Heero?"

He watched the 01 pilot hesitate, cold eyes hiding a surprising compassion rapidly assessing his appeal. Eventually he spoke.

"The information is of no vital importance for mission objectives, but for friendship…" he paused, evidently struggling with the unfamiliar phrases. Trowa came to his rescue.

"Basically, you both look like you've been to hell and back. We want to know because we care."

Duo let out an abrupt bark of laughter, startling the others as he stood up.

"I shot him, alright? Pretended I wanted ta negotiate an' shot him dead. Assassinated on Khan's orders. I shot th' best damn thing tha's happened ta L2 in years, an' I destroyed th' best initiative they've ever had an' shoved all their funds inta Khan's bank accounts. Oh yeah, an' I let him fuck me inta th' mattress like a cheap whore. Tha's ya deal for ya. If ya really wanna know, his bruiser psycho Mendez turned up ta join inta th' party, coz he had a great taste of me in prison. Thought I'd earned me keep so shot him through th' shoulder, though didn' stop him 'avin' a go at Quat. 04 finally shot th' fucker, one less bastard in th' world. Th' Gundam's win again. So there's ya debrief, Heero. Point one, Duo's a great fuck so get in line. Point two, what-th'-fuck-ever. We got here on time, we stayed alive an' boom! Th' damn mission's complete once more. Whoo-fuckin'-hoo." Duo paused, trembling head to foot, hands clenched into white knuckled fists at his sides. He broke his fierce, wild gaze suddenly, shivering and swallowing.

"Fuck…'m sorry, ya weren' askin' like tha'. It's just…Heero, I'm sorry…" he looked up, half-pleading. "I gotta go..."

Four heads nodded dazedly even as Duo stumbled out, leaving a stunned room behind him. Then Wufei took a deep, careful breath.

"Is that true?" he asked. "Did Duo do all that? Was he…?"

Quatre nodded slowly and then was suddenly fierce.

"Duo worked miracles on L2. I've no idea how he got us out of there alive, on time." He realised he was shivering himself. "I…I can't explain what it was like. I wouldn't have been able to imagine it…"

Trowa leant forward, catching his eye. "Are _you _alright? Duo said you were attacked…"

The Winner heir shrugged wearily, rubbing at his bruised neck. "I'll need a medical, I think…but I've never been so out of my depth. There was a whole world there that I understood nothing of and Duo knew inside out. I was so…_useless._" He spat the word out, finally voicing what had haunted him through all the dark twisting streets of L2, the hell of having to sit back and watch as your comrade took the blows.

Trowa spoke calmingly, reassuring as always, "We all know you'll have done all you can." He nodded miserably and watched as the other three exchanged glances.

"I think," Wufei said slowly. "We may leave the debrief here today. Winner, you and Maxwell need rest and medical attention. I would imagine you will be asked to submit a fuller report." He spoke over Quatre's protests, "As I understand it, you have drawn swords with a highly powerful criminal gang, on top of Maxwell being wanted specifically by the police. We do not know what repercussions may come from this."

Sighing, Quatre nodded his assent. Stiffly, the battle-induced strain pulling at their muscles, they stood. Quatre turned to lead the way from the room, only to halt as Heero's hand came down on his shoulder. He turned, looking into the Prussian blue eyes of the solider.

"Well done. And…thank you."

**To be continued…**


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning**: If you don't know by now, you haven't been paying attention!

**A/N: **Well, the final chapter at last! Thank you for all your support and encouragement – it's been an interesting journey. I'm sorry about the long delays between chapters and hope it hadn't ruined the flow for you! You should be chuffed you're getting this now instead of 2 months later, as I'm currently in Australia! The things we do! Anyway, read and enjoy...

**Dickensian Streets **

**By Corralero **

**Chapter Fifteen**

He was running down those dark streets again, darting down side alleys, sprinting across empty cross-roads, running blind with no guide, chasing after what he thought was the tip of a chestnut braid, and pursued by watchful eyes, howling wolves and a thrumming chain.

_Don' look back._

He could feel the stink and filth of the streets coating him, crawling up, over and into his skin as he turned and entered a sewer, heading into the heart of the underground, running and running, his heart pounding through his chest, panic rising and rising. The darkness was a thick as hell and somewhere a clock was ticking…

Quatre woke, gasping for breath, heart pounding and exhausted. For the fifth night in a row he flopped backwards onto his narrow bed and stared up at the dimly lit ceiling of his cabin. He couldn't get the streets of L2 out of his head. Even now, he was awake yet the acrid smells lingered in his nose. With a grunt, he got to his feet, fumbling for the light and his shoes. Just at the door, he paused by the mirror. Mendez's fingers still marred his throat. He passed on.

It was the fifth time he had found himself wandering the dim corridors of the Peacemillion, with a restless energy that irresistibly reminded him of Duo stuck in Sid's flat. He struck out at a wall. This needed to stop, he told himself firmly. And yet he wandered on. He, and he had sneaking suspicion Duo also, had got through the L2 hitch on the premises that he would deal with it all later. _Push it to the back of your mind. Act now, think later. Think too much as a Gundam Pilot and you're as good as dead. _Yet his return to normality was proving almost as gruelling as his departure.

After the debrief came the medical and, eventually, the fuller debriefs. Quatre had endured his medical, as had the three other pilots. Duo's doctor had ended up unconscious on the floor with a broken nose; the result of a Gundam pilot still on a hair trigger. Eventually the medical team had given up and Heero and Howard had stepped in and called for Sally Po. Luckily the situation was far from unusual. With far too many young, dangerous and volatile soldiers around, the medical staff were use to extreme reactions. After a long, long wait, Sally and Duo had emerged, looking white.

Gonorrhoea and Syphilis.

That was all Duo had said before shrugging a shoulder and sauntering off down a corridor. Quatre and Heero had blinked after him and then turned to a distressed Sally Po.

'A damn sight more that than,' she replied to their unspoken query. 'Heero, I'm sorry but Doctor G wants a full medical report.'

The stoic boy had merely bitten his lip and nodded. Quatre winced as he recalled how Heero had paid for it. A nasty fractured cheek delivered by Duo's stinging right hook when he heard the news.

Despite that volatile outburst, Quatre had seen little of the 02 pilot, or at least little of the real 02 pilot. The "respite" they had was full of activity. The Gundams needed to be made battle-worthy, resulting in long heavy hours working with the mechanics from the Sweeper team, and even longer hours alone, making the fine adjustments that only a pilot knows. So they spent the days together, yet the hangers in which they worked were cavernous spaces, full of pumping music, people shouting and the sound of crashing, hammering and drills. Not the place for a heart to heart.

On top of that they had orders to regain full fitness, which meant gruelling hours of physio, re-training, ice-baths, gym and sparring.

And over all that the war marched on, with endless meetings, updates and scenarios; hourly updates of political and military chances, inside intelligence and more. They each had their own 'mini' errands to pursue – hacking, analysing, making contacts, erasing tracks. He himself had personally tied up ends with the L2 debacle, persuading the police to back off the manhunt for Duo and downsize his priority, and unbeknown to Duo, reimbursing the L2 Fabella project and contracting internet technicians to rebuild the destroyed admin systems. The other aspects of the deal with Khan he didn't honour. As far as he was concerned, Khan had broken the terms of agreement the moment a gun had been placed to Quatre's forehead. That was loophole enough for the Winner heir, and it would seem Duo agreed as he never mentioned the deal.

War left little time for idle hands. Often they ate in the huge mess hall, alongside the Sweeper crew, Magnacs and the other rebel forces that Peacemillion was housing. The Peacemillion was an impressive vessel and formed something of a roving base for the rebel resistance. Yet more often than not, the Gundam pilots could be found eating more privately in Howard's own mess, in the company of closer friends; Howard, Sally, Rashid. Those evenings were pleasant, stretching out in a tired companionable way. Sometimes they played Scrabble, inexplicably the only game on board that wasn't cards.

Duo would sit and watched, curled up in the corner of the couch, citing his bad spelling as an excuse. He would sit there, just watching, eyes occasionally drooping shut, oil smudged across his pale face. Sometimes Quatre or one of the others would do the same. No one tucked them in. No one touched them or carried them to bed. No one touched a Gundam pilot on a hair trigger.

He was standing in the long viewing gallery, looking out at the blackness of space lit by infinitesimal pricks of stars. They were moving past the outposts of L4, his home. He could just make them out in the corner of the steel framed scene. The ship was quiet, it was still too early for the normal hubbub to begin.

Soft footfalls reached his ears, drawing closer until Trowa stood by his side and leant against the rail, staring thoughtfully outwards.

'Good morning.'

Quatre smiled slightly.

'It is hardly morning at 4.00 am, Trowa.'

His tall friend shrugged.

'In space it's never really morning anyway.'

They stood in silence a bit longer, Quatre struggling with the weight on his mind. Trowa shifted sideways and asked with that subtle diffidence that only he could achieve, 'How are you doing, Quatre?'

And then, much to Quatre's relief, he sat back and listened as it flooded out of him in an endless babble. Eventually he subsided and stood staring out, overcome with a sudden longing to go home, back to L4, away from all this, to see Nina again, to see his friends and family, to ignore this hard cold war that was destroying him bit by bit. Then Trowa spoke.

'I talked to Duo a few days ago. Found him licking his wounds in some remote corner. I think if I were him I'd probably do the same. We're all looking out for him, you know. I think Wufei has even offered to do justice to Khan with his katana.'

Quatre turned to Trowa in surprise.

'He has been talking?'

'In his own way,' Trowa turned grim suddenly. 'I wouldn't be surprised if Khan turns up dead in the next few months.' He flashed a cold smile. 'It just depends on which of us gets to him first.'

Quatre thought back to the predatory eyes and smile, the ruthless, callous manipulations.

'There will be strong competition,' he promised softly.

Trowa nodded, pleased.

'I know.'

'But Duo, does he need more? Should he…?'

Trowa frowned. 'Duo's a big boy, Quatre. He needs no more than you or I.'

He saw Quatre's unconvinced face and ploughed on ruthlessly.

'He knows exactly what he needs and what he can get. What he needs is to be fully functional for the next mission and for the one after that until either he's dead, we've won or lost. Duo knows he needs no more than that for the moment.'

'But…'

'But what? What do you want him to do? Duck out for a few months, a few years? Go into therapy until he's resolved all his issues? Go back home? Go back to the streets? He can't: All Duo has is war, and all his family are here. He doesn't have time to sort this out, Quatre. He only has time to get himself together for the next battle, just like you.'

Trowa's face was hard, yet his eyes shone with a compassionate understanding that few had.

'He's doing exactly what you're doing, Quatre. And you're both so brave, because even though I know you want to go home, I know you won't. You're going to stick it through until it's over.'

Quatre gave a shuddering sigh. 'This is what they mean by battle-scarred veterans, isn't it?' he asked with a strange resignation. Trowa's brand of rationalisation was harsh at times yet good to hear. When you saw so much in grey, it was good to have a dose of black and white.

'I still miss him though.'

Trowa shrugged. 'He's still there. He'll come out of it when he's ready, like you.'

He blinked. 'But I haven't changed!'

Trowa smiled. 'Then what are you doing hanging around in a gallery at four in the morning after a full days work of "rest"?' He sobered suddenly. 'It's a lonely process.'

They lapsed into silence again, Quatre mulling things over. Slowly the lights began to brighten, signifying the start of another day. He turned to his friend and smiled.

'If it's so lonely, then why are you here?'

* * *

Eventually Trowa stood, rolling strong shoulders.

'Talk to him if you want but it won't do much good.'

'How do you know?' Quatre wondered as they walked to the mess. Trowa paused at the entrance.

'Because I know it probably wouldn't help me. Cotton wool wrapping would destroy me, I'm not used to them,' he answered cryptically, than wandered in. Duo was already there and greeted them with a lopsided smile as he stirred a bowl of porridge. He lifted up a spoonful and grimaced.

'Not sure wha' this crap is tha' cookie keeps chuckin' out.'

Trowa leant over and nicked the spoon, ruffling Duo's hair as he did. Tasting half, he pulled a wry face and passed it to Quatre.

'Needs more sugar,' he decided and strode off to the trolley.

'Needs more of everything,' Duo muttered and Quatre grunted his agreement. They struck up an easy conversation on some problems Duo was having with Deathscythe. Quatre was mid-explanation of some solution and looking at the bags under Duo's eyes when Trowa returned, balancing two bowls and a handful of sugar sachets.

'Howie needs us in the HQ after breakfast,' he noted. Quatre nodded as Duo rapidly stirred the sugar into the watery porridge.

* * *

Quatre never did get his resolution with Duo. Howard had called them with the latest intelligence and a new mission, required Heero, Trowa…and Duo. Even a fortnight's rest was too much to ask for a the height of the war. Duo was back in the field exactly a week after their arrival at the Peacemillion. Quatre followed him out the day after. They counted themselves lucky.

The destruction of the Stigittar communication base was a turning point in the fortunes of the war. Their main communication hub destroyed, OZ was left increasingly vulnerable, and their lack of full surveillance systems meant White Fang were ultimately incapably in fully defending the Libra space station, thus allowing Wing Zero's interception under the piloting of Heero Yuy, and final victory.

Amongst the list of war crimes that threatened the Gundam pilots in the post-war confusion, the assassination of Ryan Mercer, Chief of the L2 police, was listed among Duo Maxwell's, along with his other acts on L2. Here it became known for the first time, Quatre Winner's actions of compensation.

Khan disappeared. No body was ever found, nor was he ever heard of again. His leaderless Wolves scattered, but not before claiming he was murdered. However, they singularly refused to name or describe the alleged perpetrator.

* * *

_Four years into peace. Preventer HQ, Sanq Kingdom._

Quatre leant back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily with one hand as he loosened his tie with the other. His part time responsibilities to the Preventers and his political roles seemed to be on the increase, he noted sourly. This meeting had been going on for far too long. There were simply too many interests being represented and minimum headway was being made. Frustrated, he rapped his glass down sharply and said his thoughts out loud.

'I would suggest, ladies and gentlemen, that we reconsider our ultimate aims here, each decide our favoured course of actions, taking into account what we have learnt today, away from the board and reconvene in two days time.'

The more levelheaded members of the board swiftly seconded the suggestion, leaving the hotter headed to scowl at the table. Slowly the room cleared.

'What the Dickens was that about?'

Quatre raised his eyebrows at the turn of phrase as Major Bradshaw, a highly respected military commander, stared quizzically at him. He smiled despite his irritation.

'It's a contentious topic,' he replied, keeping his voice neutral. 'Gang activity is taking on a quasi-military profile, it is true, yet the social and charitable activities are quite right to recognise the more delicate aspects.'

The major snorted. 'It's a ruddy mess and a damnable waste of the last three hours of my life. That chap, what was his name now? Johnson? One to watch, there's a chip on his shoulder the size of Africa. He certainly didn't like you,' he shot at the man sitting on the other side of the table.

Violet eyes looked up and away.

'Giva toss?' Duo drawled.

Bradshaw snorted again. 'I don't supposed you do.' He stood and nodded to them both. 'Maxwell. Winner.'

Duo stretched and rolled his head to loosen his neck.

'So tha' achieved…?' He looked at Quatre.

'Precisely nothing.' The other sighed.

'Go to know we're still wastin' tax payer's money,' Duo mumbled as he stood up, slinging on his Preventers jacket. He rubbed a stubble-shadowed jaw.

'Bradshaw was right,' Quatre said carefully. 'Johnson did seem to have an untoward hostility towards you.'

The violet eyes looked up again and this time Quatre could see beyond the protective nonchalance. Not very far. But far enough. Duo spoke quietly.

'He's got a good 'nough reason. He was Mercer's second-in-command. He was there th' day I killed him.'

Quatre's eyes widened. 'Duo, I'm-'

Duo cut him off roughly.

'It don' matter.'

'But…'

'It don' matter.'

Quatre nodded slowly, memories racing back. They shared a tense smile and Quatre knew he would be chasing a chestnut braid around street corners tonight.

'Does he know that you…that we…had no choice?'

Duo's eyes were raw and full of well-bound shadows.

'Would it make any difference?'

'It might.'

'It don'. He knows,' Duo spoke flatly. 'He even knows I pulled a Heero an' visit Mercer's wife an' kids.'

Quatre hadn't known that.

'Then what does he want?' Quatre wondered. Duo's smile was twisted.

'Resolution.'

The impossible. The unreachable. The sort of thing only ever achieved in a story and never in reality. That neat ending and finality Quatre had so desperately longed for during that week on Peacemillion, that he had hoped for while they were on L2, and that they had never got.

As they flicked out the lights Quatre wondered. What happened to Sid? How the wife and kids reacted to the visit of a murderer? Did the young gang member ever survive the battle? How exactly did his friendship with Duo regain its equilibrium after the strain it had gone through? How did Duo sleep at night when he himself still had difficulty?

Duo whacked him on the shoulder, breaking his thoughts. He looked into his friend's face, at the smile that still held the wild edge of the streets, then followed him out, closing the door behind him.

**The End.**

_Thank you so much for reading – I hope you have enjoyed this story. For those of you who have read this and never left a review, it would be lovely to hear from you – especially those of you who liked it so much that you put it on Alert or Favourites – it would be nice to hear why, especially at the end!_

_For those of you who need more closure, there will be a one-shot loosely tied into this up soon called Broken Peace. It's written so keep an eye out!_


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